


The Princess and the Librarian

by die_traumerei



Series: Castle Terra [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Horse Girl, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Aziraphale (Good Omens), Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), F/F, Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy, Happy Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Libraries, MTF Crowley, Parent Issues, Past Abandonment, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Physical Disability, Slow Romance, Sweet, Trans Female Character, allosexual relationship, fast burn, if a pre-raphaelite painting was a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Set in a fantasy-ish AU: a kind of neo-Romantic pseudo-medieval setting. Very pseudo.Crowley meets the castle's new Librarian when she yanks Crowley out of the rain. She fall in love about twenty seconds later, as you do.Aziraphale meets the Princess when she discovers a half-drowned woman outside of her library. She's pretty sure Crowley has better things to do with her time, but isn't going to give up the chance to be friends with her.What happens when two people who are both a little bit broken meet, and are brave enough to become friends, and then fall in love? Well, a lot of cuddling and reading aloud and adventures tramping through the woods, for one thing. Also, maybe, finding home, and acceptance, and a fierce champion to help you take your place in the world, knowing you matter.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Castle Terra [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801759
Comments: 397
Kudos: 232
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	1. Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this ate my brain. Updates as I finish chapters, and tags updated as I go. (I'll update the rating too, either up or down; right now this is just my best guess!) Each chapter will be narrated from a different viewpoint: first Crowley, then Aziraphale, then back to Crowley, etc. Expect softness and care, some bad stuff in the past, but healing from it too. Also a pretty fast burn; these two are not taking their time about falling in love :)

“Oh, come in out of the rain, you idiot!”

Crowley looked up at the command – and the sudden lack of rainfall on her head. “Wot?” she asked, though she also thought she could be forgiven for her sudden dumbness, considering the angel beside her. Who was holding a parasol over Crowley _but not herself_ , and was consequently getting just as wet as Crowley was.

She was  _beautiful_ . Plump, with hazel eyes, an – well, an  _exasperated_ face but also a pretty one, silver-gilt hair in long curls just as chaotic as Crowley's, wearing a long, ornate gown. Just about all Crowley could take in before she grabbed Crowley's arm and hauled her inside, just as a crack of lightening struck rather nearby.

They both jumped, but they were under cover, and Crowley blinked the rain out of her eyes – it had even gotten behind her glasses, perhaps it was a bit wild out – as the parasol disappeared and her rescuer started to haul her towards the fire. She looked around, still startled by a) being manhandled firmly inside, b) the fact an actual angel had seemingly rescued her, and c) was this...the royal library? So that made –

“ _You're_ the Maestra Librarian?” she squawked, because first impressions were important, and Crowley excelled at making terrible ones.

“Yes,” she said, and raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No!” Crowley yelped. “No, no no problem not a problem _suuuuuper_ not a problem! I just. Uh. You're not like. The last one.”

The Maestra sighed, and pointed to a chair by the fire. “Sit. I'll find some towels.” She looked Crowley over. “I was about to have tea anyway.” 

Crowley sat and watched with curiosity as the Maestra went to a panel by the ornate fireplace, which turned out to be a cleverly hidden cupboard. She pulled out two fresh towels, and handed one to Crowley, before using the other to blot the damp from her hair and dress.

Crowley started to scrub herself down, glad she'd braided her hair back at least, and careful of her face, not wanting to disturb the cosmetics so carefully applied. She cleaned her glasses when the Maestra's back was turned, and that made things much better. Relatively dry, Crowley took the chance to study the new Maestra.

She was near middle-aged, like Crowley herself, but where Crowley ran to whipcord and bone, the Maestra was plump and round. Even her elaborate gown, white silk embroidered with colourful fruits and flowers, couldn't hide her body. Accentuated it, rather, with a low-cut square neck and a wide golden belt, and Crowley would bet anything she wasn't wearing a corset or  _anything_ to give her that shape. Her silver-gilt hair was barely held in place by a fillet of silver enamelled in blue and green.

Crowley didn't mean to stare, she  _didn't_ , and she really didn't mean to stare when she realised that the Maestra walked with a heavy limp. She quickly blinked her eyes down, not wanting to be thought rude. Well, not over that anyway.

Lucky for her, the Maestra hadn't seemed to have noticed. She bustled about heating a kettle of water and filling a teapot, piling biscuits onto a plate and settling everything on a small table by Crowley.

Crowley had, somehow, managed to actually dry herself off, and handed her towel over at the Maestra's brisk command. “Who are you, anyway?” the Maestra asked. “Since we're to have tea together.”

“Oh,” Crowley said. “Right. Names. Uh. Yes. Important. Princess Crowley of, uh. Here.” She waved half-assedly at the world outside of the castle, the little kingdom.

The Maestra's eyes went  _huge_ and she gasped and dropped to her knees, bowing her head. “Your Grace! Please forgive me my rudeness. I'm so sorry, I ought to have – I'm  _so_ sorry.”

Crowley, who had grown up wrestling with the dog boy and getting her ass handed to her until she figured out how to hand his ass to him, was not actually sure how to handle this. Her etiquette classes had not covered 'dealing with a cowering Maestra' and never mind that she was going to have to find whoever had taught her this fear and turn their guts into garters. “What,” she managed. “The fuck? Maestra – no, no, none of this kneeling nonsense.”

The Maestra made to lie on the floor and Crowley finally leapt to action, kneeling before her, hands on her forearms so gently  _so_ gently, pulling her to sit up. “No,” she said softly. “Other way. You never kneel to me, all right? 'm not worth it.” She thought for a moment. “Honestly, no one is. Ought to be the other way around, you're our  _Maestra Librarian_ .” She smiled, trying to be friendly which she was good at, and kind and inviting, which she was less good at. “We don't really go in for kneeling around here. Please, sit, and have some tea.”

The Maestra's mouth was open in a perfect oval, her eyes wide and shimmering suspiciously and Crowley was going to  _slowly kill_ whoever had taught her this kind of fear. Twice.

Crowley smiled bigger, and the Maestra smiled back, weakly. Unobtrusively, Crowley helped the poor woman to her feet, and over to her chair.

“Thank you,” she said faintly, and tried to smile. “I'm so sorry. I don't – I'm new here.” She laughed, and gestured around at the messy Library. “Don't even have my personal collection filed away yet.”

Crowley's eyes grew wide at the piles of books everywhere. This was her  _personal_ collection? There were already more books in their library than anyone could read in a lifetime! “Oh,” she breathed, and smiled suddenly. “Right, you've got my name. What's yours?”

“Oh!” She laughed, a genuine sound of happiness, and something in Crowley relaxed. She could be happy here. “I do beg your pardon. Maestra Librarian Aziraphale, of Caelis.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, tasting the syllables, and smiling back. “Welcome, Aziraphale. And thank you. I was...lost in thought.” Brooding like a big silly, more like, but Aziraphale didn't need her shit right now, or ever.

“Brood at the window next time. Or don't, for I might not have met you,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, and smiled. “Or perhaps I would?”

Crowley shook her head. “I'm sorry, you probably won't see me very much. I'm not much for reading.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale sounded deflated. “Oh, that's...of course. Got plenty more important things to do, I'm sure.”

“Not really,” Crowley said, and shrugged. Well, in for a penny, in for pound. She lowered her dark glasses, so Aziraphale could see her eyes, golden snake-eyes with a long pupil. “I'm literate, but reading for long – focusing on small things for long, really – isn't...a thing I can do.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Princess, you know I could always read to you, if that was a thing you wanted?”

“Crowley,” Crowley said firmly. “No Princess about it. And...uh. Look, I'm a minor royal with nothing to do but kick around and amuse myself, but _you_ surely have duties?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “And making sure the denizens of the castle have access to my, er, _your_ books, is one of them.” She blushed a little. “I'm still learning where everything is, I'm afraid, so it might take time to find something in particular. My predecessor, um, he...I'm not sure what his system was,” she confessed with a laugh.

“Well, he was about a thousand years old, so it's probably antiquated compared to what you learned,” Crowley offered with a smile. _He_ had never offered to read to Crowley, or interacted with her in any way other than chasing her off when she tried to make trouble.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale giggled. “You're not wrong,” she admitted, and blushed. “The library moulds to the Librarian. Whoever takes over from me will have the same complaint.”

“Oh, right.” The thought of Aziraphale moving on was not a good one, and Crowley covered for it by sipping her tea. It was really good. “How, um. How long are you here?” She regarded the piles of books. “And for that matter, how will you separate the collections when you leave?”

Aziraphale gave her an odd look. “Crowley, please don't take this the wrong way, but do you know much about how Librarians are trained and deployed?”

“Not a bit,” Crowley said cheerfully. Best Aziraphale know that Crowley was really quite stupid, before she made friends only to find that she was bored senseless. 

Aziraphale smiled. “Good, I get to teach you that. Crowley, dear, this is it for me. I'm here for life. Librarians don't leave their assignments, ever.”

Crowley's jaw dropped. “Wait,  _what_ ? So you're trapped here? In here??”

Aziraphale gave a little giggle, and covered her mouth. “Oh, no, I shouldn't laugh – I mean, I really shouldn't. No, of course I can leave – I may travel anywhere I wish, for as long as I wish. But I won't move to another library. I'm here until I die, and another Maestra or Maestro will take over from me.”

“Oh,” Crowley breathed. “But what if you don't like it here?”

“Tough luck,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shook her head. “I mean what if. What if it wasn't safe for you?”

“Oh no, you're _clever_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, and looked down at her lap, and her cup of tea and a half-eaten biscuit. “There is a process, to leave a Library. It's long and hard, but it's there. Um. You should know – this isn't my first Library. I was. Before I came here. I was somewhere else. It wasn't...wasn't good for me. I'm sorry, you're getting, well, used goods rather.” She laughed a bit, nervously.

“I bloody well am not!” Crowley said hotly. “You're a _person_ , Aziraphale, not a secondhand shirt!” Looked like she might have to kill several people, who had turned this brilliant, funny, sharp, _wonderful_ woman into someone so frightened, into someone who somehow believed she was _lesser_. “Look,” she said. “Look, I promise you, I _promise_ you, Aziraphale. People here can be a bit silly, I mean, you've met me, I'm not really a shining example of, um, anything. But _no one_ will be mean to you, or abuse you in any way here, I promise you on my soul. You're safe here, Maestra Librarian Aziraphale. You're safe, and I hope you'll be happy here.”

Aziraphale's mouth was doing the perfect-oval thing again, and her eyes were filling with tears and if she cried, Crowley would go back out onto the balcony and fling herself off of it, so she tried to head it all off at the pass. “Will you show me how you've changed things, please? Maybe I can, er, help you, somehow? I can carry books, and read titles and things.”

Aziraphale smiled, her eyes still wonderfully shiny, and she nodded hard. She quickly finished her biscuit and jumped to her feet, and Crowley followed suit.

And considered the balcony solution again, for Azirpahale still limped heavily. She smiled at what was presumably an extra-stupid expression on Crowley's face. “Oh, don't look like that. It's all right. Old injury. It's only bad when it's damp.”

“Aziraphale, that's about half the year,” Crowley said without thinking, and smacked her forehead. “Holy...I'm so rude. I'm sorry.”

Aziraphale just laughed, and touched her elbow. “Come. I even had some bookcases moved, to make room for new ones, so the layout is a bit different, but I think it'll be easier to navigate. Well. Once I get everything up off the floor,” she admitted, going past a teetering pile.

“I can't believe these are all yours,” Crowley said. “You must have a wonderful collection.”

“It's your collection now too, Princess,” Aziraphale teased. “And thank you. I have loved books since I was a child, though I only started collecting really when I was about fourteen. They've always been my best friends, though I know that sounds silly.”

“It doesn't,” Crowley said softly. Maybe a little wistful; Aziraphale was wonderful, and deserved all kinds of friends. But perhaps she preferred books. Crowley wouldn't blame her any. “It sounds...like you have a full and happy life.”

Aziraphale gave her a long look, and, finally, a smile. “At times. I'm looking forward to settling down here,” she admitted. “But here – these are the old records, at least I don't have to do much with those.”

She and Crowley regarded hundreds of volumes bound in leather, with strange titles picked out in gold. 

“Are they...interesting?” Crowley asked tactfully.

“Oh, heavens no. Do you want to know how many sheep were in the kingdom's boundaries four hundred years ago? I can tell you that, but neither of us will be thrilled by it,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley couldn't help but laugh.

“Come here, this is a little more interesting,” she said, and took Crowley's hand, just for a moment, taking her around a corner to a more colourful, eclectic section. “Oral histories. Some hundreds of years old, from kings and servants and farmers alike.”

“Oh,” Crowley breathed. “Oh, please, will you read to me from these someday? If you're not busy,” she said.

“I'll never be too busy for that,” Aziraphale told her firmly, and they continued their tour, looking at local history, world history, a little section that was mostly Aziraphale's collection, on the repair of books. “I'm going to set up a little workstation here,” she said, gesturing to a pretty corner that was lit well enough, but not directly under a window. “The old Maestro – well, it's not his fault, he was old and ailing when I came to replace him.”

“Did he, er. Pass away?” Crowley asked tactfully. “I didn't know him well.”

“No, no! But he knew he couldn't do the work, so I was called for. He's chosen to return to where he was born, to die there,” Aziraphale explained. “He could have stayed, and I would have cared for him.” She grinned. “I'm sure he was fine, but I like having the place to myself, if I can be honest.”

“Oh. Should I...leave you to it?” Crowley asked.

“No! No, no, you misunderstood!” Aziraphale hand reached out her hands, seemingly to keep Crowley there bodily, but dropped her arms. Crowley was a little sad over that – the brush of their hands earlier had been so nice. “I just mean I'm glad I don't have to argue with him over moving things around and reordering the books,” she said with a laugh. “Oh, Crowley, it's wonderful having you here, please don't ever think otherwise.” She grinned and winked. “I'm also glad I don't have to carve out a second bedroom in here.”

Crowley's jaw dropped. “We didn't give you your own  _room_ ? Aziraphale!” She herself had a fine apartment, with a vast bedroom and sitting room and more space than she knew what to do with, and she was just a poor cousin!

Aziraphale laughed again, merry and sweet. “Crowley, it's part of the tradition. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, sleeping apart from my books every night. Besides, I have the loveliest little nook – come see.” She held her hand out again, and Crowley took it, letting Aziraphale guide her to a far corner of the library, where she'd never been before. There was a reinforced bookshelf – good, no chance of tipping onto a gorgeous angel – and a curtain that covered a space a good ten feet wide. Aziraphale pushed it aside, and led Crowley into what was, indeed, a lovely little nook. A narrow bed made of beautiful carved wood was pressed against the bookcase and neatly made with a faded quilt and a surfeit of pillows. There was a chest at the foot, and a small table by the head. Wooden pegs above that, all hung with gowns, each as beautiful and intricately made as the one Aziraphale was wearing. Even in the rainy gloom, the space was bathed in silvery light, courtesy an absolutely vast window on the wall across from the bed.

“Lie down,” Aziraphale said. “And you'll see why I don't want to move.”

Crowley did as asked, stretching out on the bed, glad it was at least comfortable and soft for their new Maestra. She looked up, and gasped.

The sky soared over her, and the mountains in the distance. Even from the bed she could see the landscape, the town close by with pretty houses, and the farms beyond, the earth now quiet and sleeping in the face of the coming winter, but all of it glorious. Aziraphale had the whole world before her, here.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hip against Crowley's, and smiled down at her. “See?”

“Oh, this is Heaven,” Crowley whispered.

“No, not Heaven,” Aziraphale said. “ _Home_.”

Crowley thought she might weep, and just tried to give Aziraphale her best smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Aziraphale smiled back, something deep and soft in her eyes, but just for a moment – she'd soon shaken it off and stood again, offering to show Crowley more of the library, and perhaps another cup of tea before supper arrived.

“I've mostly been eating here,” she explained, leading the way at a good pace, and seemingly not limited a jot by her limp. “So much to do, you know?”

“Honestly, I mostly eat in my rooms too,” Crowley admitted. “Uncle and Auntie are good types, but the royal dinner is _so_ dull.”

“Oh! You're not their daughter?” Aziraphale asked.

“No. It's a long story, but Mother is Uncle-the-King's sister,” Crowley explained. Maybe Aziraphale would get the whole story someday. If Crowley could be sure it wouldn't send her screaming into the night, but then Aziraphale seemed sensible and also about a thousand times above Crowley's level. She'd soon find intellectuals and wise people and interesting people and people who weren't...different...to be friends with, and Crowley would go back to making trouble on her own. She tried not to be sad about that.

“So we're both not from here,” Aziraphale said softly, and smiled. “Will you help me? I know I have no right to ask, but, er. You saw me.” Her eyes dropped. “My last Library, the royal family was...very strict.”

“Aziraphale, of course I'll help,” Crowley said. “You're home now, remember? I'll show you everything, and tell you who everyone is, and all the protocols and everything, although there's not really much of that,” she conceded. “I would be honoured to help you.”

Aziraphale smiled. “And in return, I'll read to you, and we could. We could perhaps be. Friends?” she offered.

Or, Crowley thought, I could fall in love with you within half an hour of meeting you. How does that sound?

“Friends,” she agreed. “Yes. Er. I'd like that.”

Aziraphale's whole  _body_ lit up. “Oh, wonderful! Crowley, I'll tell you such amazing stories!” She giggled, and darted down a particular line of bookcases, running her fingertips along a few spines before pulling a waterstained old book from the shelf. “I think you'll like this,” she confided, hugging it to her chest. “It's...I don't have much from when I was a little girl, but this is one of the first books I remember reading.” She smiled, big and hopeful. “It's the stories of all the constellations. Do you think you'd like that?”

“Uh huh,” Crowley said. She was _doomed_. “Yeah. Let's, uh, let's give it a try.”

“Wonderful! I don't mind telling you, I could stand to sit and put my feet up again, and I'll make us another pot of tea, and oh, Crowley, you're going to love these stories, I know you are!” She grinned so happily, chattered so fast, that Crowley didn't even think to offer to make tea, just let Aziraphale dump her in a chair and bustle about again, literally dumb with yearning. Honestly, she ought to put a stop to this friendship business right now, Aziraphale could do miles better than her, but, well. Crowley liked to be selfish, and she was going to be selfish about Aziraphale, and hold tight to every scrap of friendship she'd get, until Aziraphale figured out what was what, and got shot of the made-wrong distant cousin who was only here because her family hated her.

She accepted the cup of tea with a nod of thanks, and curled up in the chair, and was glad of her dark glasses. Aziraphale wouldn't see how intently Crowley was watching her, how she was memorising every curl, every dimple, every line of Aziraphale's face. She'd only look like she was listening to the stories she already knew and loved with all her heart, and that was just fine.


	2. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale begins to really get the idea that things are different now. She and Crowley spend the day together, and start to get to know one another; plans are made for the morrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is my life now, and i'm not sorry one bit
> 
> (CW: There's a bit more detail about what Aziraphale suffered at her previous posting, including intimations of physical violence and withholding food. She also reveals why she has a limp, with a vague description of violence. In all cases it's clear she's safe now, and Crowley comforts her and reassures her when it's things she knows about.)

Aziraphale settled down to her supper alone. They'd run out of time to ask for dinner to be brought to the library, so Crowley had gone off to her own meal, but promised to arrange for lunch to be sent up for both of them tomorrow. Aziraphale wasn't sure if she had it in her to dine properly with a member of the royal family, and so wasn't so very sad to see Crowley go. Hardly at all.

This wasn't like King Gabriel's castle, she reminded herself for the hundredth time that week. The expectations placed on her there, they weren't here. That's why she'd been sent to this minor kingdom; she couldn't cut it with anything large or important, and never mind that the collection here was  _spectacular_ , and she had so much space and so many projects! She took her dregs and aimed to enjoy them.

And then to meet Crowley. To  _haul a fucking princess in like a sack of potatoes_ ; she was still horrified at herself, and beyond grateful. Crowley could have ordered her beaten and no one would have thought anything of it, but instead she'd been...kind. Funny. She had been plainly embarrassed by Aziraphale's silly bowing, but also. Things would be different here, Aziraphale reminded herself again. The King and Queen were politely indifferent, the castle itself was lovely, and her library was a perfect jewel. She'd  _learn_ how to be happy here, Aziraphale decided, even after Crowley had grown bored with her and wandered off in search of more exciting things than a dried-up old lady and her books.

Aziraphale paused to savour a bite of fish. The sauce was  _exquisite_ . And plenty of it, too; clearly this Queen didn't mind that she had a bit of padding on her, they'd even sent up a generous slice of cake! It looked absolutely scrummy.

She usually read while she ate, but this time preferred to watch the fire, and the night fallen outside, and think about things, dreamy and soft in the most beautiful time of the evening. She could be happy here, Aziraphale reckoned. Even when she was alone again, she'd be happy.

And it was a happy evening indeed, putting aside a few volumes for Crowley, and then cuddling up in her own bed with a lovely cup of peppermint tea and one of her favourite novels, feeling wonderfully cosy and happy. Her little bedroom was, well,  _little_ , but she didn't have much other than her clothes and her books and her own self, so it served her well. It was perhaps a tiny bit chilly here with the window, but an extra shawl took care of that, and it was a very contented maestra who slumbered that night, tucked up in the corner of the library.

Aziraphale rose early, as was her custom, and dressed in the grey dawn light after breakfasting. She decided on the pale yellow gown, the one with the gold embroidery around the neck and sleeves. It was meant to be worn loose and flowing, and she always liked how it made her look; like someone who didn't care what others thought of her, and knew her own beauty. She plaited her hair back in two long braids, fitted the Maestra's fillet over her head, and set out for the day's work, not sure when Crowley would show up. Like as not right before lunch; surely she'd be quite busy with important work, no matter what she so politely insisted. Aziraphale would have to be very careful not to take up too much of her time. 

At least it wasn't raining, and her old scar didn't hurt so much as yesterday. It was easy to move through the stacks, trying to catalogue and arrange without being completely distracted by books she wanted to read. So far she was pretty bad at that.

It was hardly mid-morning, though, when Aziraphale heard the door open, and popped her head around the bookcase, expecting the maid with a little snack. And very nearly fell over when she saw  _Crowley_ carrying her tray of treats with a ready grin.

She looked stunning, of course. Aziraphale was pretty sure she wouldn't know how to  _not_ be devastatingly beautiful. Her flame-coloured hair was back in a braid again, and she wore a black velvet dress with a high neck and a skin-tight bodice and she was  _definitely_ wearing a corset of some sort, and she was just. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfectly beautiful, from the freckles across her nose down to the tips of her red leather boots. Next to her, Aziraphale felt overblown and tacky, and regretted that she'd kept her fancy gowns. They were works of art and she loved them, but she was a dull Maestra Librarian, and ought to dress like it.

“Aziraphale! I ran into Min on the way here, told her I'd take it the rest of the way.” Crowley set the tray down on the usual table, and filled the kettle, setting it in its usual place over the fire. 

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Aziraphale managed, and got ahold of herself enough to rinse out the teapot and add fresh leaves. They were making tea together, and it was so...so _homey_ and friendly and nice, it made her heart ache.

Crowley looked over the plate of goodies, then ducked her head and smiled at Aziraphale. “Which are your favourites?” she asked.

“Oh, absolutely the fruit tarts,” Aziraphale said, without thinking. “But there are so many, um, if you like them best, help yourself.”

Crowley smiled at her a little oddly. “Thank you. I like chocolate better, though,” she said, and popped a tiny chocolate tart between her lips.

Aziraphale got a flash of slowly feeding such a tart to her, of Crowley eating from her fingertips, then perhaps kissing them, then maybe kissing  _her_ , and had to sit down very quickly.

“Oh, no, old injury still bothering you?” Crowley asked kindly.

“Yes!” Aziraphale said, desperately grateful for the excuse. “Uh. Better than yesterday, though.”

“Oh, that's great news,” Crowley said warmly. “Look, eat something, I'll take care of the tea.”

“Oh, you don't have to...” Aziraphale trailed off because the Princess Crowley's royal hands were taking the boiling kettle off of the fire and pouring water into the teapot, and Aziraphale _was_ rather peckish. And the fruit tarts here were lovely, the last of the autumn apples and the most delicious cream. She bit into one and tasted the crumbly pastry, and smiled, her eyes closed in bliss.

“Oh...” A tiny word, breathed into the quiet room, and Aziraphale opened her eyes to see Crowley looking at her with such _kindness_. Such warmth. Like Aziraphale was worth smiling at, worth being friends with, worth a few fruit tarts and a cup of tea and her own little place in the world.

She smiled without thinking, and Crowley smiled back, and handed her her teacup. “Here,” she said, gentle and graceful. “Hope it's okay.”

“It's wonderful,” Aziraphale said, and then remembered to sip from the cup. It was fine, maybe a little weak, but it was wonderful too. She smiled at Crowley, who took the other chair, and sipped her own tea, and so they sat in comfortable quiet.

“Can I help you with anything?” Crowley asked, when the tray had been set outside the door. “I _can_ read, and I've got a good memory – if you show me where things go, I'll remember.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes, if you're sure you want to help? It's not always terribly interesting.”

“I think you'd make anything interesting,” Crowley said, and immediately went red, while Aziraphale quietly tried to not die inside.

“Well, filing political treatises, half of which are in languages I barely speak, will probably change your mind,” she said briskly, leading Crowley to a particularly musty corner of the library. 

She was a little surprised to see Crowley had taken her dark glasses off – but, of course, in this corner it was dark enough it shouldn't hurt her. Her eyes were striking, of course; a beautiful gold colour, with those gorgeous leaf-shaped pupils, and Aziraphale tried not to stare.

“I can put them back on, if they bother you,” Crowley said, indicating the glasses, and Aziraphale's jaw dropped.

“ _Bother me_? Crowley, no! No, I'm sorry, I'm being unforgivably rude. Your eyes are...striking. Lovely. They could never bother me.”

Crowley jerked like she'd been punched. “Are you sure? You won't offend me.”

Aziraphale made a huffy noise, and handed a stack of books to Crowley. “Take these on the other side of this bookshelf, put them on the third shelf from the bottom. And I'm quite sure, my dear. I thought you wore the glasses because the light hurt your eyes, but it's not that, is it?”

Crowley gave her a brief smile. “Kinda more the people staring and getting creeped out.”

“Well I can't say I think much of them,” Aziraphale sniffed, and turned to her own stack of books, sorting them as she parsed the titles. 

Crowley was quiet as she put her books away, then came back for the next pile, following instructions on where to put them. These were a little higher up, but there was a sturdy little step-stool nearby, and Crowley could reach easily from that. It was strong and didn't wobble in the least, she was pleased to note. Acceptable, for the precious Maestra.

“You said you're from Caelis originally?” she asked, when Aziraphale ran out of stuff for her to file, and was flicking through a few books trying to figure out where they should go.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Until I was fourteen. Then the war happened.”

“Oh,” Crowley said softly. “I'm sorry. I didn't realise...”

Aziraphale looked up and smiled briefly. “It's all right. It was a long time ago. It set me on this path, in a way.”

“Really?”

Aziraphale could  _feel_ her asking, and well, fair was fair – Crowley's eyes were still uncovered, and she was so  _curious_ , and so kind. She would be kind when she heard Aziraphale's stupid little tale. “Really,” she confirmed, and set a book aside, sitting on a stool and getting comfortable, arranging her skirts neatly around her. Crowley was, of course, lounging gorgeously on the floor. “The war came through our village – I grew up on the border, not very far from here, actually. I don't remember very much of it,” she confessed. “Everyone was very afraid. We had a small farm; it was just myself and my parents. The soldiers came through so  _fast_ , no one had time to leave, really.” She touched the side of her belly. “I tried to grab a few things, books mostly, and was the last to flee. A soldier caught me – bayonet, here,” she said, tracing the ugly scar where it twisted over her groin and down and around one hip. “I assume he thought he'd killed me. To be honest,  _I_ was fairly sure he'd killed me.”

Crowley's eyes were absolutely huge, but she was quiet, letting Aziraphale tell her story. 

Aziraphale twisted her hands tightly. “I don't know what happened next. Someone found me. I didn't die. Er, obviously. I woke up in a stranger's house, someone who had agreed to take me in, until my parents could be found. We never did, though. Find them. I was terribly hurt, of course; I had to stay in bed for months while I healed. Madame – the woman who took me in, I always just called her Madame – she had a wonderful collection of books, and I had a few that I'd saved. I had always loved reading, but with months to do nothing else, well, books truly were my dearest friends in that time. Madame helped me apply to the Librarian's Guild, and sent me on my way. I was sixteen when I entered; very young, but I had extenuating circumstances.” She looked up and smiled. “And that was it. I've been either training as a Maestra, or working as one, ever since.”

“Oh dear God,” Crowley breathed. “Oh, Aziraphale. I had no idea.”

“Well, I don't look like a war-torn refugee _anymore_ ,” Aziraphale giggled, looking down at herself. Plump as a partridge she was, and with gowns as rich as anything. She'd give Gabriel that, at least – he didn't skimp on how the household looked, and she was allowed to keep the dresses. She had designed them all, anyway, and loved them despite everything.

“And you never will again,” Crowley said fiercely. Liquid, snakelike, she moved over the floor to sit at Aziraphale's feet. “Never, ever again, you hear me? You're _home_ , and we will take care of you forever, Aziraphale. I swear to you.”

“Oh, Crowley.” She swallowed hard. “I did all right for myself.”

“Agh –“ Crowley smacked her forehead. “Of course you did. You're brilliant and beautiful and you've made yourself a whole life and you're the best Maestra I've ever known. You did all of that. Just. Now you have people to help, you know?” She looked up, suddenly serious. “You have me. If you ever need anything, you have me.”

“Oh...” Aziraphale slid off of the stool, and into Crowley's arms, hugging her tightly. “You have me, too. I can't imagine I'd be much assistance to you for anything useful, but you have me.”

“Shut up,” Crowley said, hugging back just as hard. “We're friends, yeah? Don't have to _be_ anything but friends.”

“Friends. I like that,” Aziraphale whispered, and found she really didn't want to let go. Crowley's body was hard in her arms; she was so _thin_ , and the bones of her corset pressed against Aziraphale's chest. She was androgynous, flat-chested, and she felt strong and secure and tender, and Aziraphale found she rather liked the feel of the woman in her arms. And thought Crowley might not mind her either, not the way she was holding Aziraphale, and stroking her back, gentle and even. It almost felt like she was checking, making sure Aziraphale was safe and comfortable. Letting her decide when to end the embrace.

It took a good while, before she was ready for that.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Don't get to do that very much.”

“Well that changes today,” Crowley said, looking fierce again, and then remembering herself. “Er. If you want.”

“I want,” Azirphale said, and smiled. “But come. Let's get a few more things put away, and then it will be time for lunch. And then I want to read to you, dear Crowley. I found an oral history I think you'll love.”

“Okay,” Crowley said, trying to sound casual, but Aziraphale thought that perhaps she really, really wasn't, not at the moment. 

Crowley helped her up, and they made good work of the politics section, sorting it a little more legibly. “Well,” Aziraphale admitted, “legible to me. Your old Maestro was perfectly good at his job, just. Different.”

Crowley smiled warmly at her. “I dunno. He never offered to read to me.”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale said, and hugged her suddenly, tight around her waist, her front to Crowley's back. They were both fairly tall women, but Crowley wore boots with heels, so Aziraphale's face mashed into the back of her neck a bit. “Yes, I don't think much of that.”

“To be fair, I am also actually feral, boring, and was mostly busy stirring up trouble. I'm not sure he knew I existed,” Crowley said.

“Trouble I'll believe, feral too if by that you mean no common sense, but you could never be boring, Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly, letting go. 'Let's be friends and hug sometimes' was not carte blanche to fling herself at Crowley every thirty seconds, and she could stand to learn that now, before her skin-hunger got annoying. Besides, Crowley was probably just being polite.

Crowley just smiled at her. “Come on. Lunch should be here soon,” she said, and offered her arm, which Aziraphale was so charmed she took, and let Crowley escort her back to the open space of the library, and her little table and chairs.

The clouds had lightened considerably, and they ate bathed in what pale sunshine made it through. Aziraphale was pleased her old wound wasn't causing her too much trouble – and then, of course, she'd have all afternoon to lounge about and read to Crowley. It was going to be a wonderful day. It  _was_ a wonderful day.

“Tomorrow,” Crowley said suddenly, in her way of speaking where you knew she had been thinking hard, and her thoughts were exploding out of her. “Are you busy?”

“I have no appointments, if that's what you mean.” Aziraphale smiled, looking around. “Always work to do, but I'm not _busy_.”

“Oh, er, I was just thinking. I promised I'd show you 'round. You know Auntie and Uncle and Min by now, but I could introduce you to other people, and show you where everything is? This castle's a maze, but you learn it pretty quick.”

“Oh! That would be....if you're sure you can spare the time?”

Crowley smiled at her. “Aziraphale, I am, and I'm not exaggerating, the least important and useful person in this castle. I can spare the time.”

“Stop doing that,” Aziraphale said.

“What, sparing the time?”

Aziraphale gave her a filthy look. It was  _so_ much easier to glare at her properly, now that Crowley kept her dark glasses off. “Stop saying you're not important or useful. It's not true. And it's mean.” Aziraphale wasn't a brave person at all, but she thought she might at least  _argue_ with anyone who said such things about Crowley. Even if that person  _was_ Crowley. Especially if it was Crowley, actually.

Crowley startled, and smiled softly. “If you promise to never think of yourself as used goods, I won't think of myself as useless.”

Aziraphale winced. “Touche. Look. Let's promise to both try?”

Crowley grinned. “That I can agree to. And hey.” She reached out, and touched the back of Aziraphale's hand with a light fingertip. “You're the perfect Maestra Librarian for here. No matter what they made you believe before, you're good here, all right?”

Aziraphale wasn't sure what her insides were doing. It didn't feel good, but it didn't feel bad, either? Crowley hardly  _knew_ her, how could she know Aziraphale fit? Aziraphale didn't fit anywhere. “Yes, dear,” she said and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Fine,” Crowley grumbled. “I'll prove it to you.”

Fuck, Aziraphale kept forgetting. Crowley was smart, like  _really_ smart, people-smart.

So instead of trying to lie to her again – at least right away – Aziraphale dug out the first book she'd put aside, and nodded over to the chairs by the fire. “Shall I read to you, Crowley? It's an account from a shepherd, just describing his year, but it's rather poetic.”

Crowley brightened. “Oh, in the mountains? Yes, please!”

Aziraphale laughed, and poured herself a glass of water, and then chased Crowley away from clearing up the lunch things. “You're my guest!”

“I'm your friend!” Crowley argued, and took advantage of her height to hold the tray up over her head. “Nyah!”

Aziraphale meant to stand on a chair and show her a thing or two, but was too busy laughing, and finally gave in and let the Princess of the realm make neat work of their lunch things, and set the tray outside the door. 

Right. New castle, new royal family, new rules. And the rules didn't include anyone getting beaten – so far, at least, and Aziraphale thought maybe not at all. Crowley was carefree enough, but the servants were kind too, warm and well-fed and all looking fairly comfortable with their duties. Aziraphale had learned to watch for such things.

She did manage to boss Crowley into the more comfortable chair, even though she insisted on sitting absolutely topsy-turvy, but no matter – there were books to read, and so their afternoon passed.

“I'll come get you tomorrow after breakfast? If that's all right?” Crowley asked, as they parted for the evening. Aziraphale hadn't wanted to impose dinner as well as lunch on Crowley, and Crowley hadn't said anything otherwise, so probably she had done the right thing.

“I'd like that,” Aziraphale said. “I haven't explored very much,” she confessed. “Afraid of getting lost.”

“Oh, but that's the most fun part!” Crowley laughed and hugged her tight. “Have a good evening, Maestra. Thank you for reading to me,” she added softly. “It was really interesting.”

“Anytime you like,” Aziraphale said. “I mean that. I can do shelving anytime.” She hugged back, and they smiled at one another, forearms still touching.

“Oh!” Crowley said. “Uh. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty? I want to show you the hawks and the horses and things, and it can get a bit mucky.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Of course. Ah, Crowley? Am I...horribly overdressed for the court here?”

Crowley shrugged. “Your clothes are different, but that's not a bad thing. I like your dresses,” she added, and traced a line of embroidery over Aziraphale's forearm, while Aziraphale tried to not shiver too obviously. “They're beautiful.”

Aziraphale cleared her throat. “Ah, thank you. Yours are. Um. Too. You look nice. I mean. In your clothes.” Maybe she'd get lucky and die and never see Crowley again.

“Thanks,” Crowley whispered, suddenly so shy. She put a hand on her belly, curled it around her waist, and smiled at the ground. “Um, right, bye!” And she turned and fled.

Aziraphale was, somehow, actually too curious to be nervous. “Hm,” she said, and thought over what had just happened. “Interesting.” And closed the door, and went to get a bit of work done, until supper.


	3. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley shows Aziraphale around the castle, and falls even more disgustingly in love. It's the actual worst, except for how it's also the actual best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly I have no idea how much longer this chapter-a-day thing will keep up, but hey, here we are!

Crowley checked herself again in the mirror, but it was _fine_. The skin on her face was smooth and hairless, and the bit of powder smoothed it to the perfect finish. A touch of colour on her lips and dark liner on her eyes, and she was....well. Pretty was reaching. But she looked right.

Her waist wasn't cinched as tightly today, but the cut of the dress helped, and the comfort of it helped too. It was one of the first dresses she'd had made for herself, so carefully and so well that even all this time later it was a little worn and mended, but still good, even still stylish. Of course she was a plain old thing next to Aziraphale, but she was comfortable with that. Plain and in-fashion didn't get looked at too closely, beyond the cut of her gown and the tightness of her corset. Didn't get clocked. And anyway, she liked dark colours, and indeed wore a deep and lovely navy blue today.

Satisfied that she'd do, Crowley strode through the corridors, whistling to herself and nodding when she passed people she knew, which was nearly all of them. Having exactly zero official duties freed one up for a lot of light socializing.

She knocked on the door the library, and entered at Aziraphale's call, bracing herself as always for the pretty woman's presence. Today was, of course, no disappointment. Aziraphale was dressed in blue too, though a blue closer to the colour of the sky in summer. It was an old wool dress, with simple embroidery around hem and cuffs and neck, and a plain leather belt. It looked warm and comfortable, and showed off the curves of her hips and bosom.

“Crowley!” she called warmly, and came over to greet her, reaching out and squeezing Crowley's fingers in hers. “Will I do?”

Let me hold you and adore you and made you smile like this every day, forever, Crowley thought. You'll do, oh, darling, beautiful, sweet girl, you'll _do_ . “Yeah,” she croaked, and swallowed, and tried to find words that wouldn't frighten or disgust her friend. “Yeah, of course. Uh. It's chilly out, do you have a wrap or something? Even inside it can get cold.” I will literally burn the castle down before I let you catch a chill on those bare shoulders how is your skin _like that_? Again, she did not say aloud.

“Oh, of course!” Aziraphale turned, and Crowley watched her razor-sharp close. A bit of a limp, but not bad. It was damp, but not raining. Well, there would be plenty of chances to rest if she needed it, and they'd be back in Crowley's rooms for lunch; easy enough to spend the rest of the day there if Aziraphale grew tired, or her wound caused her pain. And easy enough to do that even if she was just fine, too.

Crowley had a flash of Aziraphale sat by her fire, curled up under the softest of wool blankets, giggling at something Crowley had said. Happy and warm and content. And still friends, still liking Crowley, even after Crowley told her everything.

She shook off the daydream – no point in getting herself hyped up, no point in silly stories that wouldn't come true, not in the way Crowley really wanted. Best to live in the moment.

Besides, Aziraphale had returned with a thick knitted shawl around her shoulders, tying it neatly behind her waist to leave her arms free.

“There, much better,” she said cheerfully. “Oh, Crowley, your hair is stunning. Will you teach me how to do that?” She laughed and pulled her long, single braid over one shoulder. “I'm awful at these things.

Crowley had plaited her hair and wound the braids into a kind of coronet, and she nodded, trying not to die at the thought of doing Aziraphale's hair, getting to brush out and braid those pretty curls. “Of course – later. Or tomorrow. Soon.” She remembered to smile. “Oh! Protocol stuff.”

Aziraphale's back immediately straightened and her hands clasped in front of her. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Please, I know that's very important.”

“Ah, that's the thing,” Crowley admitted. “It rather...isn't? Non-royals you greet just like anybody else, but royals...you also sort of greet just like anybody else?” she tried to explain. “You were formally presented to Auntie and Uncle, I suppose, but that was just for ceremony and stuff.”

Aziraphale nodded. “There's a short ritual that must be done,” she explained. “Really a bit dull, though --” she smiled, remembering. “It's nice, too. I'm sorry you weren't there.”

“Me too,” Crowley said softly, knowing she would have sought Azirphale out _considerably_ sooner. “Oh, er. Well, this is awful, but, how long _have_ you been here?”

Aziraphale giggled. “The day we met, that was one week. So not very long at all, I'm afraid, and all that pretty well in my library.”

“Oh good grief, how are you not clawing at the walls?” Crowley asked. “Right, we're getting you exploring. But yeah, protocol. Did you meet Adam?”

“Er, the Prince of the Realm?” Azirpahale checked. “Only very formally.”

Crowley started to lead them out of the library, content that Aziraphale probably wouldn't have a meltdown upon meeting a royal person – she wasn't the only weirdo cousin floating around, plus the small family themselves. “He's all right for a kid. A small bow to everyone is all right, if it'll make you comfortable, but there's no kneeling or anything like that, and no averting your eyes or whatever. You're just as good as anybody else here, all right?”

Aziraphale made a small noise, and Crowley looked over at her sharply, ready for murder again. Could she start a war? She'd be okay starting a war, if it made Aziraphale feel better.

She remembered the abrupt end of Aziraphale's childhood, and was glad she hadn't made the joke aloud. She also reached out, and when Aziraphale put her hand in Crowley's, wrapped her fingers firmly around the other woman's hand. “You're with me,” she said. “You're safe.” It seemed a stupid thing to say, but Aziraphale relaxed, and smiled at her, and Crowley felt about a hundred feet tall. Wars were for losers; if Crowley kept feeling like this she'd take one look at King Gabriel and reduce him and his whole cruel court to ash.

“Right,” she said, and they started walking hand-in-hand. “Around here is mostly empty bedrooms for guests. It'll get busy come the big holidays, but right now it's pretty quiet. And I know you've got the best view in the castle but really, if you need more room, just pick one and move in.”

Aziraphale giggled. “What is your obsession with real estate? Crowley, I have more than enough space. I don't _own_ enough to need another room!”

Crowley laughed. “Just so you know! Uh, my apartment is nearby, you'll see it at lunch. It's big enough I pretty much rattle around in it, so maybe I'm used to stupid spaces?”

“I can't wait to see where you live,” Aziraphale said warmly.

“Right,” Crowley said, getting another flash of Aziraphale coming over regularly. Maybe staying late. Maybe very tired. Maybe it would be easier for them to just fall into Crowley's bed, and Aziraphale would want a little cuddle, and Crowley would –

Absolutely not. Not yet. Not _ever_ , probably. Crowley touched her cheek, found it still smooth. She'd have to tell Aziraphale soon, if only to keep from going mad in the interim between warm friendship and inevitable ditching-the-loser-with-yellow-eyes.

“Oh!” She said. “Oh, okay, this is good for you to know.” She'd stopped before a door rather plainer than the others, and let them in. “This is spare linens. Obviously you can ask Min for anything, but if it's late or you can't find her or don't want to bother a servant, just duck in here and help yourself.” Crowley led them into a plain room full of shelves and old wardrobes pressed into service. “Sheets forever, of course, and there's basically a whole wall of blankets and pillows, but the best is here!” She lead Azirpahale back to an enormous pile of down comforters and particularly fluffy quilts. “Don't get caught by the housekeeper, but this is the best place in the castle for a nap,” she confided.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. Her free hand was twisting in her skirt, anxious and tight. “I shouldn't want to annoy anyone, Crowley.”

“Aw, she's fine, she'll bark at you, but she doesn't mean it.”

“I don't think...” Aziraphale cut herself off. “It looks very nice,” she admitted.

“Hey, hey, it's all right,” Crowley said softly. “Look, I know for a fact she's on the other side of the castle today, she won't catch us. C'mon, just try it out!” And she let go Aziraphale's hand, and flopped into the delicious, squishy pile of softness.

“Well, if you're sure I won't get in trouble...” Aziraphale delicately climbed in, and of course they were rolled together, facing one another in a big dent in the pile.

“Aziraphale, it's okay,” Crowley said softly. “I know it can take time to feel safe. I really know, I promise. But you will, here. In time.”

Aziraphale smiled sadly. “I would like that very much, Crowley. I'd like to believe that.”

Crowley nodded, and took her hand. “Everything that's been done to you? Aziraphale, you didn't deserve any of it.”

“You don't know that,” Aziraphale said.

“I really, really do,” Crowley replied. “No one deserves war. No one deserves to almost die at fourteen, you were a _baby_ still. No one deserves to be as afraid as you are, whatever horrible things were at your last court. No matter _what_ you did, I don't care if you _did_ do something wrong although for the record I don't think you could do anything bad or evil, you _don't deserve abuse_.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Can we talk about something else?”

“You know what's great?” Crowley said without missing a beat. “ _Ducks_. Ducks are great. We've got a lovely duckpond, I'll show you that, we'll go outside in a moment, you'll love our ducks. Best ducks in the world, here.”

Aziraphale giggled. “I think I'd rather like that. To see the duck pond. With you.” She gave a happy little wriggle and made a hummy little sound, clearly enjoying their squishy nest. Score one for Crowley!

Crowley grinned at her, but jumped when she heard a familiar sharp tone out of nowhere. Damn. Mrs Moonchild wore the quietest shoes ever made.

“ _Crowley_ _how many times do I have to tell you_ – oh, Maestra!”

Aziraphale had scrambled to sit up, and Crowley rose more slowly, annoyed they'd been found out. “I thought you were in the laundry,” she whined.

“I'm not,” Mrs Moonchild informed her sharply, and turned to the now clearly-terrified woman at Crowley's side. Crowley was about to flat-out warn her not to say a word sideways, but her whole demeanour changed.

“Maestra, it's so good to meet you, welcome to our little kingdom. Please let me know, personally, if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable.” She spoke softly and gently, and it occurred to Crowley that maybe _everyone_ met Aziraphale and more or less immediately made it their life's goal to protect and adore her. It was only common sense.

Crowley was not forgotten about, as Mrs Moonchild grabbed her by the ear and hauled her to her feet.

“Yeowch,” Crowley said cheerfully, and winked at Aziraphale to let her know everything was okay. And _then_ remembered she was wearing her dark glasses, ugh, she was useless. Aziraphale had a tiny smile on her face, though, and rose gracefully on her own. Of course.

“Try to not let this demon lead you astray, dear,” the housekeeper said cheerfully.

“Aw, you love me,” Crowley told her.

“Love to kick you out of places you ought not be,” she grumbled, and turned back to Aziraphale, gentle and kind. “I am glad I ran into you – are you quite warm enough? I was going to send up another comforter, the old Maester used to say that window let in every draft in the kingdom, and winter's nearly here, dear.

“Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you,” Aziraphale said hastily. “I'm not truly cold.”

Crowley and Mrs Moonchild looked at her. Crowley was already planning what to burn down.

“It's only a bit chilly, I'm really fine,” Aziraphale said weakly. “I've got so many pillows and things.”

Crowley and Mrs Moonchild looked at each other. “ _Two_ comforters,” they said in unison, and Mrs Moonchild nodded.

“I'll leave them by your bed, dear,” she said. “Now scat, both of you.”

And Aziraphale _smiled_ , and Crowley could have kissed Mrs Moonchild. She actually did, smooching her on her cheek and only sorry she didn't leave a lipstick print. “I love you,” she sang out.

“ _Out_ , demon,” Mrs Moonchild said, and escorted them to the door, giving Crowley an utterly painless smack on her bottom to send her on her way.

So out she went, taking Aziraphale's hand again, chatting about the few interesting rooms they passed; it was really all storage and guest spaces on this wing, and they wound their way downstairs past great receiving halls and parlours and things, the more public spaces of the castle, and finally out to the courtyard.

It was the usual mess of chickens and geese and dogs and chaos, and Crowley looked sideways, but Aziraphale was relaxed and easy; well, she'd grown up on a farm so maybe noisy, muddy chaos wasn't terribly strange. She politely let a dog sniff her hand, but didn't reach out to fuss, and they walked across the courtyard, skirting the worst of the mud as people bustled about their work. Min ran by and grinned happily at both of them with a little wave. Awkwardly, both Aziraphale and Crowley waved back.

“Crowley!” They were nearly to the stables when a man just as rangey as Crowley tackled her. Crowley whooped and rolled around on the grass, wriggling and smacking him on the back as he tried to pin her and of course failed miserably. “Chae, when'd you get back!”

“Yesterday,” he said cheerfully. “Been a bit busy, the new dog boy's useless.”

“Well, they survived you...” Crowley grinned and rose, and helped him up and into a big hug. “Chae, put on your manners, going to introduce you to a real lady, all right? Maestra Aziraphale, this is Chae, master of hounds and hawks. Trust him as far as you can throw him.”

Chae bowed to her, and smiled. “Maestra, welcome to court.”

“I don't know, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “I'm stronger than I look. Pretty sure I can throw him awfully far.”

Chae hooted, and took her offered hand, clasping it warmly in both of his as she bowed to him. “I'm pretty aerodynamic,” he said. “And good, you already know not to listen to a word this demon says. And truly, welcome. Crowley, show her where everything is. Do you hunt, Maestra?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, surprising both Crowley and Chae. “I was instructed in riding, and can hunt with a merlin. I don't know that I'm particularly skilled, but I did all right.”

Chae's smile grew. “We'll have to take you out sometime soon, Maestra.”

“I think I should like that very much,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley ignored the ugly thing in her heart. If Aziraphale and Chae...what better, than to have her friends fall in love?

“I have to go, but see you both soon.” He went to cuff Crowley, who ducked and mimed a knockout punch at his face, and was startled when he grabbed her up in a big hug. “Especially you, Princess. We have catching up to do.”

“Tonight, after dinner,” Crowley said, and he finally released her and they were back on their way.

Aziraphale smiled at her. “He was nice. Are you two, um. You know?”

“Courting?” Crowley grinned. “Hardly. We grew up together, is all. Er. I don't. With men?” she tried.

“Oh. Oh!” Aziraphale laughed and stopped dead in her tracks, reaching out for Crowley's hands. “You too?” she asked.

“Too. You. Oh.” Crowley thought she'd never stop smiling. Aziraphale. Women. Loved _women_ , like Crowley did. She used every ounce of will to shut her overactive stupid imagination down. Instead she squeezed Aziraphale's hands tight, while they smiled at each other like idiots, while someone mucked out the stables behind them. Truly, Crowley had this romance thing down pat.

Aziraphale giggled, and squeezed back, and they continued their walk.

“You should go hunting with him,” Crowley said. “He's really good at it.”

“I shall, I think. Will you join us?” Azirpahale asked, and Crowley shook her head hard.

“I loathe horses,” she said frankly. “I'm all right on foot I s'pose, but mostly I leave hunting to others. I do love a good ramble, mind.”

“Then I will hunt with Chae, and ramble with you,” Aziraphale decided, and slipped her hand into Crowley's again.

The tour of the stables was quick, and it was clear that horses didn't particularly like Crowley either, with one immediately starting up a racket as soon as she stepped in.

“Oh, now, hush your face,” Aziraphale said firmly. The horse did not hush its face.

She looked at Crowley and shrugged. “What, I'm not magic.”

Crowley giggled, and they scarpered, spending a little longer with the hounds (and Aziraphale introduced to Wat, the dog-boy), and peeked in quickly at the hawks.

“Which one's a merlin?” Crowley murmured.

“There, third from the left,” Aziraphale said softly. “Oh, lovely.” She winked at Crowley. “Shall I catch you a rabbit for your supper, dearest?”

“You catch it and we'll both eat it,” Crowley said, something sticking in her throat. Aziraphale was so relaxed, so happy and at home in herself. They ought to have done this ages ago, and never mind that they'd hardly known each other for three days.

Aziraphale just smiled, and they slipped out again. They annoyed the chickens and peeked in again at the brewery, Crowley taking advantage to blow a raspberry at Ewan, who chased them both away.

Crowley started to run a little, and noticed Aziraphale falling behind, and felt a perfect clod – of course she had trouble running, what with the damp in the air and possibly the whole generally spending her life in a library.

“I'm so sorry,” Aziraphale panted, when Crowley stopped and waited for her to catch up. “I really should eat fewer sweeties.”

“The _fuck_ you should,” Crowley said without thinking. “I should have some manners.” She held out her hand again, and Aziraphale took it, and that was all right. They were together again. “I'm so sorry, Zira.”

“Aziraphale, please,” she corrected, but with a small smile. “I can't abide nicknames.”

“Sorry. Azirpahale. Again.”

Aziraphale gave her a friendly little squeeze. “Speaking of, why does everyone call you a demon?”

“Oh – old nickname from when I was a little kid,” Crowley said. “Chae kept it up, and everyone picked it up from him.”

“It has nothing to do with you taking obvious joy from irritating every single person we've met?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“Nope,” Crowley said.

“Quite sure about that?”

“Yup,” Crowley said.

“Well all right then,” Aziraphale said dryly.

“I like you a lot,” Crowley told her, swinging their arms a bit. “'Bout time I got someone on my side.”

“Oh, I'm on your side, am I?” Aziraphale asked. They were going down a little run of steps, leaving the castle proper to the gardens, and the duck pond. Crowley had promised ducks, and would deliver.

“'Course you are,” Crowley said cheerfully. “You know I'm innocent as the new-fallen snow and demon is a completely inaccurate childhood nickname that follows me around for no discernible reason.”

“Crowley, even for you I will not pretend to be _that_ stupid,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley threw her head back in a belly laugh. And they must have been walking close; she could feel Aziraphale wiggle with joy, feel as well as see her laugh. Oh, Crowley was _so gone_. This was going to hurt so much someday.

But until that day she had Aziraphale smiling at her and holding her hand, and they walked through the fallow winter gardens to the duck pond. There was a pretty little bench there to sit and watch the ducks and a few crows who'd come to say hello. It wasn't too cold out, yet, but Aziraphale sat quite close to Crowley, probably to conserve body heat. Why else would she?

“You're right,” Aziraphale said, after they'd both been quiet a long time.

“Hmm?”

“I like the ducks.” She laid her head on Crowley's shoulder for a moment. “Thank you. For showing me around. I liked meeting people. Everyone's very nice here.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said softly. “They are.”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Why did you come to live here, and not with your parents?”

Crowley shook her head fast, tears pricking her eyes. Why'd she fall for a _smart_ lady? “I'll tell you someday, okay? I promise. But not right now?”

“My dear, of course.” Azirpahale didn't move an inch, but she suddenly was – more. Protective. Tender. Crowley could fall into her arms and be safe for the rest of her life. “You don't have to tell me anything, if you don't want to.”

“No, I do! Just. Another time. I really promise, Aziraphale.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “Another time. Oh, look at that one, he's...oh. Oh, I thought they only did that in spring!”

And the two of them giggled together, watching the winter life under a grey sky, until it was nearly time for lunch and Crowley had to show her the back way into the castle, the oldest, skinniest corridors that gave them a shortcut and popped them out just a floor above and a few turns away from Crowley's rooms.


	4. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THEY KISS.
> 
> (After some things happen.)
> 
> (Look it might have taken 12k-ish words for us, but it's been like a long weekend for them, so it's not reeeeeally a slow burn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick heads-up!
> 
> At one point Aziraphale starts to have a panic attack, but Crowley gives her the space and help to bring herself back, and she recovers quickly.
> 
> Brief mentions of past abuse that both Crowley and Aziraphale experienced; descriptions are very vague.

Aziraphale memorized turn after turn, finding the little details that would let her recreate the trail on her own. She was good at this; memorizing things, remembering them, finding them again. All Maestra and Maestro Librarians learned it, but she had been one of the best, even she knew that. So she'd always know how to find Crowley's rooms.

And wasn't  _that_ a true miracle! That she was still invited to Crowley's rooms after asking the most thoughtless, rude question! Crowley ought to've dumped her in the duck pond. That's what Uriel would have done, and Aziraphale would have deserved it, no matter Crowley's kind words about deserving.

(Don't think about that right now. She was right. But she was wrong. But she was right. Those were things to think about another time.)

And instead Crowley had been sad, but kind, and just when Aziraphale was starting to get rather peckish, had suggested going inside, warming up, and getting something to eat. “And you can laugh at my apartment,” she had suggested, and Aziraphale had managed to laugh in truth at the little joke. And then Crowley had taken her hand again, like she was afraid Aziraphale might not be there, and so they navigated still hand-in-hand, Crowley helping her over a crumbly little wall and not disgusted with Aziraphale's general unfitness. It had been a day of little miracles, really.

Crowley let them into a pretty little foyer, and helped Aziraphale undo her shawl and hang it up. “D'you want to see everything, or sit and have a drink of something?” she asked. “Lunch should be here soon.”

“Oh, you've seen every inch of the library, I want to see your home,” Aziraphale decided, and Crowley ducked her head with a smile.

“Well, all right. Don't have too many high expectations, I have zero taste.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Aziraphale said, as Crowley led her into a cheerful little parlour. Well, 'little'; it was a big room, scattered with plain, dark furniture, including a lovely sofa and chairs by a crackling fire. There was only a very small bookshelf, but there were wonderful _things_ everywhere – interesting rocks or crystals, chess sets and other games, a small loom with a partially-worked length of cloth in one corner. And –

“You have an orrery!” Aziraphale made a beeline for it, and gasped when she got closer. It was a beautiful thing of brass and enamel, absolutely exquisite, a thing of art as well as science. “Oh, Crowley!”

“Oh, yeah.” Crowley drifted over behind her, blushing red now. “I only understand it a little bit, but I'm learning. It's beautiful to study it.” She touched one of the planets, and sent the whole glorious thing spinning gently, soundlessly, the spheres in their dance.

“Crowley, it's _exquisite_ ,” Aziraphale breathed. “What a beautiful thing to study. You have a whole life's work, right here.”

“I've always loved the stars,” Crowley admitted. “And you're not kidding about life's work. I've owned this for nearly twenty years now, and I'll never understand all of it.” 

“Oh, but that's the most wonderful part,” Aziraphale said. “There's always something new.”

“Oh,” Crowley said softly. “You understand.”

“My dear.” Aziraphale turned to face her and oh, she wanted to _kiss_ Crowley. Not even anything big or romantic. Just – a kiss, the kind of kiss you give when you've done it a thousand times before. (Or so Aziraphale imagined. She was not someone with a lot of romantic history, but she could _imagine_.)

Crowley smiled back, and they reached for each other, just a little. Just touching each others' forearms. Aziraphale knew she in no way had the courage to kiss Crowley, and it looked like. Well. Perhaps Crowley didn't want to be kissed, when she just squeezed Aziraphale's arms, and winked from behind her dark glasses. “Go and look at the bookcase, you know you want to.”

Aziraphale laughed, because, well, she  _did_ . She crossed the big room and knelt down before Crowley's little collection, curious what she might have, and making mental notes what she might like to have read to her. A few dull-looking things that were probably schoolbooks or other childhood mementoes. A few books of weaving patterns. And the rest of it – adventures stories, fantasies and oh – a whole shelf of books on gardening! Aziraphale smiled, and knew what she'd read to Crowley next.

“I am a Philistine, I know,” Crowley said.

“Shut your mouth,” Aziraphale advised, accepting the proffered hand to lever herself up. “You have a perfectly wonderful little collection, and it's hardly your fault you can't read much. You've mentioned gardening, but I didn't know you wove, though.”

Crowley shrugged. “Sometimes. I'm not very good, but I like it. I don't have to focus on anything small like with needlework; I could do it all by touch if I had to. It's peaceful.”

“That's wonderful,” Aziraphale said, going over to the loom, and running her fingertips over the pretty fabric. “Crowley, this is beautiful.”

“S'alright,” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale was about to ask about the other rooms, when Min arrived with lunch. She quickly rescued a bottle of wine off the poor girl, while Crowley insisted on taking the heavy tray so she didn't have to lug it any further. 

“Right, well, your aching arms, Princess,” Min teased. “Oh, Maestra! Mrs Moonchild put a few more blankets on your bed, she said to tell you, but you must let her know if you need anything more. I'll change your linens tomorrow as usual, of course.”

“Thank you, Min,” Aziraphale said shyly. “And please thank the housekeeper for me as well, that's really very kind of her.”

“Yes, Maestra.” Min gave her a quick curtsey, something of an afterthought, and Azirphale followed Crowley through to a lovely little dining room with windows that overlooked a fruit orchard.

“Crowley,” she asked thoughtfully. “Are the servants here beaten, if they displease anyone?”

She winced when Crowley fully dropped the tray. At least it was over the table, even if it made the most almighty noise.

“ _What_?” Crowley asked, voice raw and shocked and ugly. “No! God, no! What? Aziraphale, did you see something? Did someone say something to you?” Her voice rose and she was clearly shocked and upset.

Azirphale cringed, and fought the urge to go hide, to take back her stupid words. Of course they weren't – no one here acted afraid, ever, apparently, not from Crowley on down to the dog-boy. “No, no, no, of course not! Everyone's been incredibly kind! I just.” She twisted her hands so hard it hurt, and looked down, and really hoped she hadn't insulted Crowley too deeply.

“Hey, hey, I'm sorry. No, Aziraphale, I'm so sorry.”

Aziraphale hated when Crowley talked to her like she was a bird about to be frightened off. She hated more that it truly helped, to be talked to that way. She  _was_ frightened, terribly frightened, of everything. The carefree joy of exploring the castle – 

Hadn't evaporated. It was there. This was Crowley, her  _friend_ , who showed her the best napping place and where the horses and hounds and ducks were. Who was friends with everyone, and who knew, somehow, just how much care Aziraphale needed, even if she didn't deserve any of it.

“Look at me, dearest.” A gentle voice, soft fingertips on her shoulders, and Aziraphale looked up, and relaxed her hands. “I am _so_ sorry. I'm not angry with you, or upset. It's really important to me that everyone here feel safe, got it? And that includes you.”

Aziraphale nodded, and forced her shoulders to relax, and took a deep, deep breath, closing her eyes.

“That's my good girl,” Crowley said softly. Her voice was low and rough, and very nice to listen to. Aziraphale took another breath, and opened her eyes, and smiled. 

“I'm all right. Shall I open the wine, dear?”

“Please. I'll lay out the food.” Crowley gave her a friendly smile and a little wink, and set to work, while Aziraphale sorted out their drinks. Safe, safe, safe. She was safe. Usually after one of her little spells she needed to lie down, and she was certainly a bit tired but it was, at least in part, the good tired of tramping all over in the fresh, cold air. Her belly rumbled, and she ducked her head, and Crowley laughed. Kindly.

“Sit, eat,” she urged, settling a wonderful-smelling plate down before Aziraphale. “And I'll answer your question truly.”

Aziraphale smiled, and did as she was told. The food, some kind of rice dish, was spicy and warm and sweet, and it filled her veins somehow, even from a single bite. “This is extraordinary.”

“We poached Cook from some distant relative, and I think Uncle would sell off the kingdom to keep her,” Crowley agreed. “Here, try these little dumpling things – dip it in the sauce, see?”

Aziraphale couldn't stop a happy little noise as she ate. She blushed, but Crowley was only smiling when she opened her eyes.

“Good,” she said softly. “I'd hoped you would like those. There's so many, eat up, all right?”

Aziraphale smiled, feeling warm and wanted. “I don't think I've ever eaten so well as I do here. Queen Michael – I think she wished I would lose a few pounds.”

“Well, I think she's an idiot,” Crowley said. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “She is.” She covered her hand with her mouth, shocked at her own candour. But, well, she _was_ an idiot.

Crowley only smiled, and gave her a few more dumplings. “Good. That you know that. And you deserve a proper answer. No, no one is hit, or whipped, or beaten, or anything like that. There are punishments, but they are...intended to help,” she said thoughtfully. “I won't say no one's ever lost their tempers and struck someone, we're not actually saints here. But as a matter of routine punishment? No, never.”

Aziraphale felt better and better with every bite, and the wine didn't hurt either. “I didn't really think so,” she assured Crowley. “Everyone is...unafraid,” she finally settled on. “You get a feel for it, I think.”  
“Aziraphale,” Crowley asked gently. “Were you beaten at your last place?”

Aziraphale shook her head, and wasn't sure how to feel about Crowley's sigh of obvious relief. “No, dearest. I...one of the princes struck me a few times in anger, on my arm or my leg, mostly. And one of the princesses slapped me once. But nothing so very bad!”

Crowley's breathing was very, very even, Aziraphale noticed, and she hid a wince. Stupid bloody mouth, should've kept it to herself. Crowley didn't need to know any of that. It was the past. Didn't matter.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, and her voice had that awful talking-to-a-bird sound to it. It was incredibly comforting, to hear that Crowley wanted to be gentle with her. “Aziraphale, it's okay if you don't believe me yet. But please, please, someday believe me, that you didn't deserve any of that. And no one will strike you here, I _swear_ to you.”

“I know _that_ ,” Aziraphale mumbled, and smiled at her, glancing up for just a moment. “I know, Crowley. I left, didn't I?”

“So you did, my brave girl.” Crowley smiled at her, warm and proud and wonderful, but still a little like Aziraphale was a wild animal who needed to be handled gently. 

“My mother used to hit me, when I was little,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale almost choked on her wine as she literally saw red. “It's not the same,” Crowley continued. “Not exactly. But I understand a little.”

“I will kill her,” Aziraphale said, her voice calm and distant. She blinked, and took a deep breath. “Forgive me, that's not helpful.”

“It's more helpful than you think,” Crowley admitted with a small smile. “I was a pain in the ass as a kid.”

“I literally do not care what you did or didn't do as a child. You were a little girl!” Crowley flinched at this, and Aziraphale firmly modulated her voice, dropping to gentle and soft. She was good at soft. “My dear. You didn't deserve that either. I'm so sorry you understand.” She held out her hand, and took Crowley's, squeezing it softly and rubbing her thumb over Crowley's knobbly knuckles. “There, see. We'll remind each other we're safe now.”

Crowley smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

Aziraphale smiled at her, her best and biggest smile, and squeezed Crowley's hand again, before letting go so she could eat.

The rest of lunch was full of warm conversation, Aziraphale asking after this or that aspect of courtly life. Including the most important bit, who the best dressmaker was, which Crowley happily shared, gossiping about this or that.

“Do you wear corsets?” she asked, and Aziraphale shrugged.

“At times? I have a few gowns that need them, but I don't always like that cinched-in feeling, you know? And if I'm already a bit sore, having something that tight on my scar doesn't much help, I'm afraid.” She made a face, remembering a few days of agony before she said fuck it altogether. The looser, softer gowns looked just as nice on her.

Crowley smiled. “Of course. I do know an extraordinary corsetiere, if you need something repaired, or want to order a new one.”

Aziraphale thought over her small collection, but shook her head. “Not as yet – what I have will get me through Solstice at least. Do you wear one every day?” she asked curiously. Crowley was always so well- _tailored_ .

“Nearly,” Crowley admitted. “I like how it makes my body look – I know I've got two mosquito bites on my chest, so it's nice to have a shape.”

Aziraphale giggled, and helped herself to some more rice. It was so  _good_ , and there was more than enough for both of them to have seconds if they liked, and Crowley's smile was still warm and inviting. It was as though she  _liked_ watching Aziraphale eat, it was the funniest thing. “You have a beautiful shape, dearest. And be grateful.” She sighed and touched one of her own breasts, definitely not mosquito bites. “They're all right, I suppose, but get in the way sometimes. And they ache horribly when I'm on my time of the month.”

Crowley made a sympathetic noise.

“Actually, that's another question.” Aziraphale made a face. “Is there an apothecary or something? I need to stock up on teas and such.”

“Oh, poor girl,” Crowley said. “Yes – do you remember the stained-glass window on the second level, with the bluebird?”

Aziraphale did a quick mental re-trace, and nodded. 

“Right. We went up the stairs; go right instead, and there's a little infirmary there, they'll take care of anything you need,” Crowley promised. “If you're really poorly, of course, send a servant.” She smiled softly. “Or send a servant to come get me. I'm a terrible nurse, you'll get better out of self-preservation.”

Aziraphale burst into giggles, but also. Also Crowley freshening up her hot water bottle. Crowley making her tea for a cold. Crowley snuggling her when her body hurt too much, or helping her distract herself with stories, the two of them tucked up in her tiny bed because even sitting was too hard.

She shook her head to banish the daydreams, and thanked Crowley, and that was that.

If they had intended to explore more in the afternoon, it was supplanted by the wonders in Crowley's apartment. Aziraphale made her do a few picks on the loom to show off, and she admired the fabric again.

“Oh, good grief, it's yours then,” Crowley threatened. “I'll add a pretty fringe and you can wear it as a shawl, all right?”

Aziraphale had almost kissed her right then and there, and also decided that kissing Crowley was a thing she very, very much wanted to do. And perhaps – just perhaps – Crowley wanted to kiss her too? At least, she wouldn't be angry if Aziraphale kissed her, probably. Not  _very_ angry. At worst she'd laugh and wonder what she was supposed to see in a dull Maestra, and they'd go back to being friends.

Aziraphale also almost kissed Crowley in the less-formal sitting room where there was a small desk and things to write letters, and definitely almost kissed her in the bedroom that was about the size of the house Aziraphale had grown up in, complete with a bed that came with its own curtains and was at  _least_ four times bigger than Aziraphale's.

“All right, I see why I look like a churchmouse to you,” she conceded.

Crowley rolled her eyes. “I'm just over-the-top.”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said. “That's why I like you.” And there, she could have kissed her then, too. And definitely could have kissed her when she peeked into Crowley's palatial bathroom with a full vanity that Crowley sat her down firmly in front of and redid her hair in a matching coronet of braids, showing her every step of the process.

But because Aziraphale was very dumb, she didn't kiss Crowley any of those times. She didn't kiss her on the walk back to the library, Crowley showing her the fastest way between their rooms. No, she waited until the absolute last possible moment to not be a complete and total coward, when they were standing in the open doorway. Because that's who she was.

“Thank you so much,” she said, and Crowley hugged her, jut reached out and hugged her like she was someone Crowley liked, because she _was_.

So she gathered her courage, and kissed Crowley's cheek, and lingered. Long enough that Crowley turned her head, and Aziraphale moved her head, and. Oh.

Her lips brushed against Crowley's. Their noses lay against each other, and her arms were around Crowley's shoulders. Crowley's arms were loose around her waist, not holding too tight, and they  _kissed_ , Crowley's mouth under hers. Aziraphale opened her lips just a little, and so did Crowley, and oh, they were kissing. Crowley kissed her back, she had been right. Everything in the world was perfect.

Except for the flash of sadness in Crowley's eyes when they parted.

“What's wrong?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nothing,” Crowley said. “Nothing with _you_. You're perfect. Thank you. Brave girl.” She smiled, and kissed Aziraphale again, just for a moment. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Come by anytime,” Aziraphale said softly. She was made out of butterflies, she was going to fly apart, she'd never felt so wholly herself. They smiled at one another, and Aziraphale watched her walk away. Watched her look over her shoulder and smile, just before she turned a corner that would carry her out of sight.


	5. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After wailing at Chae about her cute girlfriend, and a long walk and a good think, Crowley writes Aziraphale a letter.

“I am extremely fucked,” Crowley said as she flung herself down on Chae's sofa. “Super super suuuuuuper fucked.”

“You dimwit, Aziraphale fancies you back,” Chae said, not missing a beat.

“ _That's why I'm fucked_ ,” Crowley yowled to the world.

“Please shut up and drink this whiskey,” Chae said, and handed her a glass. “ _Slowly_ , you uncultured swine.”

Crowley emitted a shriek of horror at the world, but sipped her whiskey as she'd been told. “She kissed me. I kissed back.”

“Still failing to see the problem here,” Chae said.

“She doesn't know,” Crowley mumbled.

“Still failing to see the problem here? Crowley, she's well-educated, she's a _Maestra_.”

“Yeah, 'cause education is such a fucking barrier to hatred,” Crowley said. “Or she could get angry and say I mislead her. Chae, I love you, but I'm not fucking about with this.”

“All right,” Chae said. “I believe you, I'm sorry. But Crowley, she thinks you hang the moon.”

“So far,” Crowley told the ceiling. “Fuck. Look, I don't want to lay this on you.”

“What if I don't mind?” Chae asked mildly. “Crowley, it's scary. But I don't know if you've seen how Aziraphale looks at you, or how she behaves around you. When I went to tackle you, she started to move like she'd get between us, if I really hurt you. And she's got your number, doesn't take you too seriously when you shouldn't be, but she sticks by you. And you've known each other what, three days?”

“Four,” Crowley mumbled.

“You don't waste time, do you?” Chae asked, a little impressed. Crowley was going to dump him in the mud next time they were both outside.

“I like her so much,” Crowley said softly, because she had to tell _someone_ her heart. “What'll I do when she realises she can do better than me?”

“Realise that if that's what she really thinks, you're better off without her, and she's not so great as all that,” Chae said.

“She's fucking _wonderful_ ,” Crowley told him hotly, and he held his hands up.

“I know! I believe you! Look, just talk to her, okay? Before you drive yourself mad.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, and finished her drink, holding the glass out for a refill. “Okay. I promise.”

They waited about three beats.

Chae sighed.

“Okay, tell me everything about her,” he said in the voice of a long-suffering man, because that's what he was. He was also Crowley's friend and knew her whole fucking history, had _come_ here with her, and if he didn't want overt drama, he could've gone somewhere else. 

“She's...amazing,” Crowley said. “I don't...I can't explain it. I want to protect her from the world. She's fierce and smart and so...I don't even fucking know. Look, I know I've been through some shit, but compared to what she's lived through it's _nothing_ , and she's still. She's _kind_ to me,” Crowley mumbled into her drink. “Even when she's not, it's just 'cause she doesn't want me to get away with shit.” She paused and considered. “All right, she's also kind of snooty. But she _is_ a Maestra.”

Chae smiled at that. “True. Did you horrify her with your non-reading?”

Crowley gave him a stricken look. “No. She reads to me now. Every afternoon, or nearly so.”

Chae sat up at that. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Stuff she picks out, but, um, I mean she accepts recommendations. Crowley closed her eyes and sighed. “You see?”

“You _are_ doomed,” Chae said, admiration evident in his voice. “Crowley, love, you are _fucked_.” He lounged in the chair, mirroring her haphazard pose. “Where'd she come from, anyway? Most Maestras start, er, younger than she is.”

Crowley smiled at his attempt at tact. “We're her second placement – she started training really young, actually.” She was so smart. Crowley at sixteen could barely walk and breathe at the same time, and there was Aziraphale, barely healed from war, and undergoing some of the most rigorous training in existence. Crowley was so proud of her it  _hurt_ . “D'you know anything about some king named Gabriel, by the way?”

Chae shook his head. “No, sorry, doesn't ring a bell. Did you ask our king?”

Crowley smiled, remembering dinner. “Oh yes.”

She had been floating on air, the taste of Aziraphale's mouth still on hers, when she went to her aunt and uncle's private rooms for a family dinner. Adam had been doing some schoolwork, so she annoyed him for awhile until Auntie called her away, where she opted instead to roll around on the parlour sofa and irritate her older relatives. The way siblings had been spaced out, they weren't  _that_ much older than she was, really; more like brother and sister than aunt and uncle.

“By the way,” she had asked, once she'd settled down and lulled them into a false sense of security. “D'you know a King Gabriel?”

Her uncle had looked up at that. “I do, actually.”

“What d'you think of him?” Crowley asked.

The king had made rather a rude gesture, and Crowley cackled.

“Why d'you ask, demon?” Auntie had asked her, before gently shoving her over to take a spot on the sofa.

“That's where Aziraphale was, before she came here.”

Her uncle looked up, surprised. “I didn't know Librarians could move about?”

“She said it's rare, but they can apply to leave. It's really hard though.” Crowley was a quiet a moment, aware this wasn't her story to tell. “I think she would share your opinion of Gabriel.”

“Hm.” The king looked at her, and she looked back. He was perceptive. “Interesting. Probably good that we have no ties to his kingdom.”

“Oh?” Crowley asked casually.

“Indeed. She need never see him again – not here, anyway.”

Crowley felt a little glow in her belly. Uncle wasn't much fun, and Auntie pried too much, but she did love them. “Thank you,” she'd said softly, and changed the subject.

“He didn't think much of him,” she said tactfully. “But anyway, that's where Aziraphale was before. He sounds a right dick, going by what she's said.” Also cruel, and for the royal children to _hit_ her! Crowley would drown them all without a second thought. 

“He must be, to break the ritual,” Chae said.

“Huh?”

“God, get some culture, will you?” Chae teased. “Guess you weren't there when we got our Maestra – in Annwn I mean.”

Crowley shook her head. “Probably being punished.”

“Hm. Anyway, part of the ritual is, the Librarian symbolically becomes _part of_ the castle. That's why they sleep in the library, and why they stay there,” Chae explained. “I mean, it's not like she actually physically becomes part of the building. But the ritual is important, you know? No matter how miserable she was there, it would have been incredibly painful to leave. It's incredibly beautiful to arrive.”

“ _Fuck_ I wish I'd been there when she got here,” Crowley murmured. To be there to welcome her Aziraphale to the home that would love her and cherish her and take care of her. _Fuck_.

“Let that be a lesson to you, lass,” Chae teased, and Crowley grudged him a smile.

“Shut up. You going to take her hunting?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Chae assured her. “It'll be nice to have someone new to go out with. And she seems interesting.”

“She is. You'll love her. I think everyone loves her. Mrs Moonchild caught us in the linens room – oh don't _smirk_ at me, I'm not drunk enough – and she was perfectly lovely to her.”

Chae hid a smile. “I reckon we'll get on. Maybe she can teach you how to wear a dress that doesn't look like widow's weeds.”

“Oh fuck _off_ ,” Crowley told him, and drank some more of his whiskey.

She said goodnight when Chae started to yawn, but wasn't tired herself. Best to go for a little walk. It was late enough that the castle was even fairly quiet, as she paced through the halls. Inevitably, she walked past the Library. Even stopped and rested her hand on the door. Aziraphale was probably tucked up in bed, reading. Crowley traced her fingertips over the inlaid iron on the door, but didn't knock. No matter what she'd sort-of agreed to...she just couldn't  _tell_ Aziraphale. There were too many ways for it to go wrong. No, it would have to be a letter. A carefully-written, carefully-thought-out, painstaking letter, perhaps slipped in with Aziraphale's breakfast.

Great. Plan set. Brilliant. Crowley had solved all her problems.

Now she just had to  _write_ the fucking thing.

Crowley let her feet take her where they would; she knew the castle from top to bottom, inside and out. She and Aziraphale had just barely scratched the surface – she'd have to take her to the attics next, and show her the infirmary properly, to make sure she could find it, and also the little nook that let one peek straight down into the courtyard and...

Assuming it would all be okay. Crowley tried to be okay with herself at least, even when everyone else didn't agree. She'd got through plenty of times when things _weren't_ okay, after all. And if Aziraphale felt betrayed, or if she hated Crowley, that was on _her_. Crowley had other friends. She'd fall in love again. Or not. She couldn't imagine feeling this way about anybody else, but that wasn't such a big deal.

She set her mouth, and stepped outside into the damp, cold night air, and took a deep breath. She did hate the cold so, but it was nice tonight. Piercing. Made her body seem to not be there, which was a thing that helped sometimes. Crowley rested her hand on her waist, gratis a corset, and relaxed at the womanly curve there. It was funny – she was fine not having breasts, it made her look sleek, she thought. But she really wanted hips.

Aziraphale's hips were wide and round, and Crowley thought her lap might be the nicest place in the world for a little nap.

She walked, and tried to clear her mind. Tried to find the words that had worked before, when she'd had to explain herself without the proper language. Tried to tell someone how she was different, but it wasn't bad. Just different.

The castle this late was quiet, and it helped her breathe, and think. Aziraphale deserved her honesty, and the space to come to her own conclusions, that was obvious. She was clever, she could think things out. And Crowley wasn't the only one in the world like this; maybe Aziraphale had heard of such people before?

Crowley leaned over the side of the bridge, and looked into the moat. It wasn't much of one; mostly good for swimming in summer or fishing. Wouldn't really protect anything, but they had had a long run of peace here in Terra, and it looked likely to continue. Good, Aziraphale would have a well-earned peace.

Crowley rolled her eyes and looked up at the sky. Honestly, it would be easier if she could go more than a minute without thinking of the woman. But she thought that unlikely, the way her heart quivered in her chest.

She walked longer, spiraling out and then in again, thinking. Of Aziraphale, of herself, wondering again why she was the way she was. Why _anyone_ was the way they were. Why did Aziraphale like hunting, and Crowley didn't? Why did Chae hate sweetpea flowers, and Crowley filled her rooms with them? Why she liked to weave, while Auntie preferred embroidery and loathed weaving. Why she and her uncle both had too-quick tempers, and were fast to be cynical, and she didn't love it about herself, while he embraced it.

She filled her brain with wondering and her feet with walking, and it was so late it was early when she went back up to her rooms, and sat to write. She planned for about a million drafts, and hoped she wouldn't give herself a migraine, but the words seemed to flow out of her in a way they almost never did, as soon as she put pen to paper. Her handwriting was large and a little rough, but legible enough. Not pretty, but it'd do. Like her.

Dearest Aziraphale,

I'm sorry. I should have the guts to tell you this to your face, but maybe it's better I write it. Maybe it's better for both of us, even, and not just me. I want good things for you; you deserve so many good things. So I hope this is good, or at least not bad.

Before anything else, you should know something about me. I'm a woman, all right? I am. But when I was born, everyone thought I was a boy. Not their fault. I had a boy's body. I have a body that men have, in a way. Except it's mine, so it's a woman's body. Do you understand? I'm a woman, please, please believe me on this. But if you ever wondered why I was so flat-chested, now you know. And why I wear corsets and make-up. They help; I like how I look in them.

God, you don't care about that, do you. I'm sorry if I lied to you, or implied. I was going to tell you, I swear, then you kissed me. I've known you less than a week, but it feels like I've known you six thousand years. I adore you, Aziraphale, I really do. I hope you think all right of me after this.

I only have one request of you. Don't come find me right away after reading this. Sit and think a little, before you make a mistake you'll regret, whatever you're feeling. Give yourself some time, be sure if you want to be friends, or – well, if you want to keep kissing. Or if you hate me. You wouldn't be the first.

No matter what, though – know that you are so special, you are so wonderful. This is your home now, and you are loved and cherished by the very stones in the earth. I promise, that never changes.

Yours,

Crowley

It came out, her heart on the page, and she was pretty sure it would never be this easy again. Or maybe she always needed to walk a few miles and think first, she decided a little grimly.

Crowley folded the letter and sealed it, and was quite sure she was up for the day; no fucking way she'd sleep before she heard from Aziraphale. Better to face the day.

She started by going down to the kitchen and making sure the letter would go on Aziraphale's breakfast tray – and liberating some coffee and a roll for herself. Both were hot and good, and stood her in decent stead for the day. She bathed quickly, scrubbing yesterday's make-up off of her face. Crowley was lucky her facial hair grew slowly, but she shaved anyway, just to keep her skin soft and nice; face and legs, because she liked the feel of stockings over her smooth skin. She drank another cup of coffee in her sitting room, and, entirely without meaning to, fell fast asleep as morning broke over the castle truly.

She was wakened by the sound of pounding on her door. “Crowley!” Aziraphale's voice called. “Crowley, it's me, open the door!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I don't think it's a radical spoiler that Aziraphale's feeling for Crowley aren't changed at all, and I promise there will be softness and kindness aplenty in the next chapter. Just in case you wanted the reassurance.


	6. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is okay. And also Crowley has a healthy breakfast for possibly the first time in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Neil Gorsuch, apparently, say trans rights!!
> 
> (FYI: I know AO3 is having some hiccups with their mail servers; I'm on close to a 24-hour delay with notifications for this story. I always update on my tumblr when a new chapter goes up though!)

_Ten Minutes Earlier_

“Oh, thank you Min. Oh, what's this?” she asked, seeing the letter gently balanced between her plate and a glass of juice.

“Princess Crowley dropped it off in the kitchen this morning,” Min said. “She asked it be given to you with breakfast.”

Aziraphale's heart did an ugly thing. “Oh, thank you,” she said, forcing her voice to calm, to warmth – she  _liked_ Min. “There now, I'm all right – I know I'm the last of your rounds, go get your own breakfast, dear.”

Min grinned at her and curtsied, and ran off, pleased to be freed a bit early, Aziraphale reckoned. 

Very carefully, she poured herself a cup of coffee. It was nothing. A love note, perhaps. Or the start of a joke. Crowley was creative like that. It wasn't a letter telling her the kissing had been a mistake. That Crowley had thought about it, and realized the truth that Aziraphale was unloveable. That they would have to break off their friendship. It wasn't that at all, probably.

Aziraphale breathed deeply, and picked it up, and broke the seal, and read.

“Oh,” she breathed out loud.

She read to the end, and looked up, fire in her heart. That –  _demon_ ! Aziraphale was going to kiss her to the ends of the earth!

Letter still clutched in hand, still in her dressing gown, Aziraphale stalked down the corridor, making the turns precisely, her feet already knowing the way, and she pounded on Crowley's door, crying to be let in.

_Present_

“Unh? Aziraphale?” Crowley, fully-dressed but obviously still mostly asleep, opened the door. Her face was bare, the first time Aziraphale had seen it that way, her eyes full of sleep as she rubbed at them like a child.

“My _dear_ ,” Aziraphale choked out, and grabbed Crowley into her arms, pressing kisses all over her face, over and over, kissing her cheeks and under her eyes, the skin soft and finely-lined, the crow's-feet at the edges of her eyes, her sharp cheekbones and the tip of her nose and her mouth, her mouth, her mouth.

Crowley's arms wrapped around her in return, and she kissed back, once she'd woken up a little, Aziraphale guessed.

“You ninny,” she whispered, when they'd needed to take a breath, her forehead against Crowley's. In her stocking feet, they were the same height, or near as. “You darling. This doesn't change anything. My poor dear heart, how long did you worry over that?”

Crowley shook her head, and she buried her face in Aziraphale's neck for a moment. Aziraphale simply held her, stroked her back, the hard line of her spine. No corset today, or not yet, and Crowley's body was so soft and so delicious in her arms.

“I told you to wait before you came to see me,” Crowley finally said, when she could lift her head and they could talk face-to-face.

“I don't do what I'm told when the dearest friend of my heart might be suffering,” Aziraphale said. A beat. “Or most other times, come to it.”

Crowley's face broke into a grin. “I know. I adore that about you.”

Aziraphale hugged her, and rubbed her arms, and kissed her cheek. “You poor thing. Have you eaten yet?”

“Um, yeah. Didn't sleep much last night, got coffee and a roll when I dropped your letter off,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale made a rude sound.

“That would not keep a _bird_ alive,” she announced. Oh, she was going to take _care_ of Crowley, like Crowley had never been taken care of before. “Come to mine, I always have ridiculous breakfasts, more than enough to share. We'll get some food and coffee into you, and talk, all right?”

Crowley smiled, and let Aziraphale tow her back to the library, plunking her down at the table with no backtalk permitted Princess, here's your coffee, here's a plate with some  _protein_ and look Crowley, your actual fruit! Those things you need to stay alive.

“Is this what you're like when I encourage you to be a bastard?” Crowley asked in awe, looking down at the breakfast she had been handily bullied into. “Because I'm going to do that a lot more.”

“I am not a bastard,” Aziraphale sniffed. “I am a _good friend_. Eat your breakfast, dear, it's getting cold.”

Crowley did as she was told, and Aziraphale reckoned she looked a good deal better for it, even if she couldn't stop yawning. Her body must be relaxing enough to actually feel tired. Good.

“Well, you'll survive until lunch at least,” Aziraphale noted, and her voice softened. “Did you sleep at _all_ , dear heart?”

Crowley shook her head, and cracked her jaw with her next yawn. “Maybe an hour? Coffee'll kick in in a moment...”

“Silly woman.” Aziraphale helped her up. “You're no good like this, and I'll just keep fussing and bossing you. Hush, I am, and I don't like being a bully. You can sleep here, and we'll talk when you wake up. For the record, though, I would very much like to keep kissing you. Among other things. In case that wasn't clear.”

“It's clear,” Crowley said with a smile, while Aziraphale firmly marched her back to her little bedroom, her bed still rumpled. Still _warm;_ all those blankets holding Aziraphale's body heat even now. She rather liked that; she'd be keeping Crowley warm, even if she wasn't right here. Aziraphale got her into bed and gently tucked the quilts around her, moving the bolster she used to ease her body sometimes, and getting Crowley as comfortable as she could. It was going to be a sunny day at least; no damp drafts for her Princess.

“Sleep a bit, will you? You did a really brave thing.” Aziraphale kissed her, so softly, kneeling by the little bed and caressing Crowley's face. “Sleep as long as you want, I'll be here in the library. Call out for me, and I'll hear you, all right?”

Crowley nodded, eyes already closing. “Thanks.”

“Shhh.” Aziraphale stroked her hair, in a simple braid today, and kissed Crowley's brow. She stayed until she knew Crowley was asleep – all of about five minutes, really, and silently retrieved the dress she'd change into elsewhere in the stacks. She didn't want to chance waking the other woman. Although Crowley was already pretty dead to the world, Aziraphale could admit, smiling fondly at her. She was so beautiful, cuddled up in Aziraphale's bed; it was tempting to stay and just drink her in, but there _was_ work that needed doing, and she deserved a little privacy.

So Aziraphale got herself ready for the day, dressed and hair done and teeth brushed, and set the breakfast things outside of her door. Her day well and truly begun, she got to work tackling the fiction section. And although it  _truly_ was interesting – well. Couldn't blame her for her mind wandering, really. Or her attention to every sound that penetrated the quiet library, trying to hear if Crowley had woken and wanted her.

She slept nearly until lunch, though; long enough that Aziraphale really did get lost in her work, and gave a little jump at the sound of her name.

She set the box she was hauling down and fairly shamelessly ran to her bedroom, ducking behind the curtain to see a sleepy (though less exhausted-looking) demon blinking her eyes, half-sitting up already. “Aziraphale?” she asked, sounding uncertain.

“Sweetheart.” Aziraphale flew to the bed, sitting on the edge and helping Crowley up – right into an embrace. “Poor dear, you were knocked out. Woke up just in time for lunch, too.” She'd arranged to have both their lunches sent to the library, of course, and reckoned she'd likely be doing that a lot.

She felt Crowley yawn, and then hug her back, warm and strong. “Perfect timing,” she mumbled, and didn't move an inch from Aziraphale's arms.

“Perfect,” Aziraphale murmured, cuddling her until she could wake up a bit. “Come and sit by the fire, I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Crowley hugged her and gently pulled away, smiling soft and shy. “Thank you. You'll join me?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale kissed her forehead – she was never going to stop kissing Crowley, now she'd started. “Up you go, darling. You can nap here this afternoon too, if you want.”

“That bed is ridiculously tiny, but it is comfortable,” Crowley admitted, rolling her shoulders in a little stretch as they walked together through the stacks.

“It's delicious,” Aziraphale agreed. “It's a miracle I get up some days. Now sit, demon, and let me make us some tea. We can start talking now if you like, or wait.”

“You understood what I was writing?” Crowley asked. “I don't have the words for it, really, if there even are words for it.”

“There are, darling. And I understood.” She put the kettle over the fire and filled the teapot, and took the other easy chair. “There was a girl like you at the the Guild, a year behind me. I didn't know her very well, I'm afraid, but I'm not exactly new to the concept.” She looked sharply at Crowley. “Not that that would change anything.”

Crowley lit up. “You've met someone else? For so long I thought it was just me...”

“Oh, no, Crowley. Not at all,” Aziraphale breathed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Crowley smiled and ducked her head. “Stop. Do you, um. Have any questions?”

Aziraphale was quiet for a long while. “No. Not right away. Probably later. Is it all right if I ask as they come up, or should I save them up?”

“Oh no, ask, ask!” Crowley smiled. “Ask anything, sweetheart. I know so much about you.”

Aziraphale giggled and smiled at her shyly. “Oh, that doesn't help! I want to know everything about you! Where do you like to be kissed best?”

“Just under my ear,” Crowley said. “You?”

“My nipples,” Aziraphale said, because, well, Crowley had _asked_. Also it was a little funny the way she turned read and made noises that didn't have vowels.

“ _Maestra_!”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Crowley, we're not  _nuns_ . I lived in a dormitory with twenty other young women for a  _decade_ , and I was  _not_ the only one in there that fancied women.

Crowley's eyes got very wide. “Oh my....”

Aziraphale smirked. “Mmmhmm. So yes. That's an answer with some experimentation behind it.” The kettle whistled cheerfully, and she got up to fill the teapot and give Crowley a moment to catch her breath.

She handed the cup over, and settled again in her seat, cheerful as all hell at both getting to kiss a sleepy Crowley awake, and utterly flustering her. Her gown that day was cut rather low, and she hoped it was giving Crowley palpitations. It was, perhaps, time for a little revenge after the fear the letter had struck in her.

“Crowley,” she said, after Crowley had had a moment to drink deep. “How _are_ you, dear heart?”

She got a startled look. “...fine?” Crowley tilted her head to one side. “Great? Uh. Why?”

It was a shame, but Aziraphale was going to have to kill her for being thick as a brick. “ _Crowley_ . You sounded so afraid in that letter. Did you really think I would  _hate_ you for this?”

“Other people have,” Crowley mumbled.

“Yes, well, that's their problem, and they don't deserve you in your life,” Aziraphale sniffed. “You did a frightening thing. Do you feel better now, yes or no?”

Crowley smiled at her. “Yes. So much yes, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled back. “All right. I'll stop badgering you, now.”

Crowley laughed softly. “Not badgering.” She was quiet. “How are you?”

Aziraphale was quiet, thoughtful. “Good, I think. I'm sorry, I don't mind telling you that that letter scared me at first,” she admitted. “Thought you were breaking things off.”

Crowley squawked in protest, and Aziraphale held up her hand. “No, no, you did the right thing for you, sweetheart. I'm...a bit stupid sometimes. Very self-centred,” she admitted.

“The fuck you are!” Crowley looked _angry_ , just for a moment, then shook it off. “Would a stupid, self-centred person go out onto their balcony with a parasol just 'cause she noticed someone getting wet?”

Aziraphale smiled. “You're a silly goose, going out in the rain like that.”

“Yes!” Crowley yelped. “I am! It's the first thing you learned about me! I have _zero common sense_. So see, you're saving me from myself. Be a right idiot to break anything off with someone as nice as you.”

Aziraphale giggled, and smiled at her. “Crowley, I don't know if anybody's ever...well, ever liked me as much as you do. Thank you.”

Crowley moaned softly. “It's not...you don't have to thank me for being stupid over you.” She peeked through the hand over her eyes. “Are you stupid over me?”

“Oh my _God_ you have no idea,” Aziraphale said flatly. “You're intoxicating, Crowley. Have been since I yanked you in here and acted a tit and you were so good to me.”

“Hey,” Crowley said. “You didn't act a tit. You were afraid. Understandably so”

Aziraphale just smiled at her. “Anyway. Oh! Who else in the castle knows about you?”

Crowley shrugged. “My family, of course, pretty hard to hide that from them. Chae, same reason. Probably most of the servants have worked it out.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Of course, darling.” She held out her hand, and Crowley took it. A simple little gesture, but warm and good. “When did you first know?”

“Always,” Crowley said. “I didn't have the words for it, but always.” She sighed. “I started, um, wearing gowns and things, and growing my hair out when I was sixteen. Mum and Dad didn't love it. It's not why I'm here, but it's part of why, you know?”

Aziraphale nodded, and squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry,” she said gently. “You deserved better.” She smiled, hearing the door open and Min come in. “Come on, let's get a bit of food into you.”

She went over to the table and helped Min arrange the dishes for them. “Oh,” she said. “Who do I speak to about furniture?”

“I can pass a message along, Maestra,” Min said. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, no, not at all, dear,” Aziraphale assured her. “Only – I should like a sofa, I think. Near the fireplace?

Min, who presumably did not miss much, smiled like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. “I'll arrange for it, Maestra. Any particular request?”

“Something very soft,” Aziraphale said. “Upholstered in velvet if you can find it, otherwise some other soft fabric. Long enough for me to lie on, please.”

“Of course, Maestra. I'm sure we can find something in a day or two. Princess.” Min bowed slightly to Crowley, who'd come drifting over, and left them to their lunch.

“A sofa, hmm?” Crowley asked.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. Crowley had been brave, so she could be too. “I need a convenient place to hold you. Cuddle. That kind of thing.”

“Hngk,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale pulled out her chair for her and got them both settled for lunch.

They ate quietly, both of them hungry, and Crowley accepted more coffee gratefully, then sighed and touched her face. “Oh. So this is me. Didn't have time to re-paint this morning.”

“You're beautiful,” Aziraphale said gently. “Do as you like for yourself, but you don't have to wear make-up for me.”

Crowley smiled, and Aziraphale leaned across the table to kiss her. “Crowley, we have so much to talk about and learn about each other. But let's have fun too?” She laughed suddenly. “You  _like_ me! I never thought I'd find someone like you. I just wanted to be left alone with my books, to work in peace, but then I met you. This is such a happy day, Crowley.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, looking a little dizzy again. “It's...I'm so happy, angel. Don't think I'm not. I wish I'd had the sense to tell you earlier, is all.”

“Crowley, we haven't even known each other a _week_. I'm not sure there is an earlier.” Aziraphale grinned at her. “Sweetheart, you still look worn out. Let me pick out a book to read to you, and we'll go back to yours, all right? You can curl up in bed or wherever you like, and I'll read to you and you can take a nap if you want.”

“Can we stay here, then?” Crowley asked. “I want to nap in your bed. Again.”

“Of course. Whatever you like.” And she'd stay by Crowley, just read or do a bit of needlework, and enjoy her darling getting a bit of much-needed rest. Poor sweetheart, to stay up all night worrying.

Aziraphale pulled her into an embrace as soon as Crowley was within arm's reach, cuddling her and kissing her cheek softly. There was a mark on one cheek, and Azirpahale wondered if Crowley usually covered it up; it was dark and curved oddly. Something to ask about another time, though; for now she could bundle her darling into bed, tucking her in again.

Crowley laughed up at her, and Aziraphale rubbed the blankets over her chest. “I'm not an invalid.”

“I know. But you're tired, and you were so worried. It's my pleasure to give you a little joy,” she explained, and Crowley smiled, and snuggled up to the thick pillows.

“I'll be back with a book soon,” Aziraphale promised, and Crowley pulled her down for a kiss, but she did finally get away, making a beeline for a book of fairy stories she thought might be just the thing.

Of course, when she returned, Crowley was fast asleep, curled up in a barely-visible lump under the pile of quilts.

Aziraphale just smiled, and kissed her temple, and settled down to read to herself until Crowley woke.


	7. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale cuddle in bed, talk, and make plans for dinner together. That's it, that's the chapter.

Warm.  _Really_ warm. And soft. And smelled so good.

Crowley opened her eyes slowly, and remembered where she was, and smiled. Aziraphale still liked her. Aziraphale had essentially put her to bed – twice! – and cuddled and kissed her and comforted her with food and touch and soft questions. It really was all going to be okay.

“You look happy.”

Crowley stretched and smiled. “I am happy. What time is it?”

“Just gone three, sweetheart.” Aziraphale moved into view, kneeling by the little bed. “Plenty of day left.”

Crowley grinned and stretched out her arms, catching hold of Aziraphale's sleeves and tugging her into a hug, pretty wonderfully soft and warm herself. “I feel amazing. It's magical here.”

Aziraphale giggled and hugged her tight, and kissed her cheek. “You just needed some sleep. Budge over, we'll have a little snuggle and then I'll make us some tea.”

“Budge over to _where_?” Crowley asked, even as she squeezed hard against the wall.

“You're the skinny one, you figure it out,” Aziraphale sassed, but she smiled too, so Crowley's heart stayed soft. 

They held one another, bodies coming together, and sighed in pleasure in unison, which set them both off giggling.

Crowley kissed her, and tucked a silver curl that had come loose out of Aziraphale's face, and kissed her cheek, soft as anything. “You okay?” she asked softly. “You've been kneeling a lot today.”

“I'm wonderful,” Aziraphale assured her. “It's lovely and dry out, my scar doesn't hurt.” She smiled wryly. “Rather, all the muscle and bone damage under it doesn't hurt, but it's easier to talk in shorthand.”

Crowley nodded, and laid a hand very gently on her hip. “Is this okay?” 

“It's wonderful, sweetheart. You're not going too fast for me,” Aziraphale promised, and blushed. “I know I teased you with that whole where I liked to be kissed thing, but I do. Um. Like to go slow.”

“I can go slow,” Crowley promised. “We have a lot to learn about each other.”

“Is this okay?” Aziraphale asked, resting a hand on Crowley's waist.

“Mmmhmm. See why I wear corsets? I'm a rectangle,” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale giggled.

“A beautiful rectangle,” she corrected. “Crowley, your body makes me so happy.” She gave her a little snuggle, and Crowley relished it, all that _softness_ around her, and Aziraphale's hand so warm on her waist, thumb rubbing gently just where her ribcage started. 

“Fair's fair,” Crowley mumbled, when she could string words together. “I adore your body.”

Aziraphale giggled. “This old thing?”

“Oi!” Crowley gave her a healthy pinch on her tummy, well away from any scarring. “This gorgeous thing. You're so...” She gave a happy sigh, failed by words. “Chae said you're going hunting with him soon?”

“Mmmhmm. Probably tomorrow, if it doesn't rain.” Aziraphale's fingers were gentle on Crowley's scalp, petting and scritching, encouraging her to snuggle and relax, their bodies pressed tight together by the bed. “Sure you don't want to come with us?”

“I do not need to give another horse a reason to scrape me off,” Crowley said with great dignity.

Aziraphale giggled, and kissed her brow. “Poor demoness. You really hate riding.”

“You'd hate it too if you got thrown half the time you were on a horse,” Crowley grumbled, her bum aching in remembered bumps.

“Oh, that's never nice.” Aziraphale tipped her chin up for another kiss and a fond smile. “So yes, he's stealing me away tomorrow, but if you want to come by after dinner, I'll read to you? Or whatever you like.”

“Come to mine,” Crowley said. “I want to finish your shawl before it gets truly cold. You can read and I can work.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale agreed.

Crowley just smiled and wrapped her arms around Aziraphale's waist. “What else were you trained in, as a Maestra? I mean fancy-people stuff, not Librarian stuff, I guessed that.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Oh, a great deal. I'm a bit funny to place, you know? I'm not royalty obviously, but nor am I servant, exactly. I must be able to get along with everyone, though, and fancy people, as you put it, tend to have rather more hobbies.”

“We _are_ pretty useless, as a group,” Crowley agreed cheerfully, and it was her turn to bear her pinch with honour. Or an indignant yelp.

“I can ride well, and hunt well enough with a hawk, though I'm useless with anything else,” Aziraphale said. “I can dance very poorly. I speak about four languages well, and can read in another two, although that's pretty related to my work. I learned an enormous amount about etiquette, as you've likely guessed. I am good at embroidery for someone who came to it late, and absolutely useless at knitting or lacemaking or anything like that, though goodness knows they tried to get it into my head.” She touched Crowley's hands. “I don't have clever fingers.”

“Don't need to. Perfect otherwise,” Crowley said, a little in awe. “Aziraphale, you really had a Courtly education, you realise? You are absolutely on par with any royal family member.”

Aziraphale blinked in startlement. “Are you serious? All I heard was how I lacked, how I had learned the wrong languages and couldn't dance and....well.” She took a deep breath. “A lot of silly things.”

Crowley wondered how this looks-obsessed court had dealt with a Maestra who walked with a heavy limp a good portion of the time, ignoring that she was brilliant and sweet and wickedly funny. Well, at least they must have been pleased aesthetically; Aziraphale was the most beautiful woman Crowley had ever laid eyes on. 

“Very silly,” she said softly, not asking because she didn't want to know the answer. Didn't want to hear about the cruelty. “Believe me, I should know, I got it from both ends – training to be a royal, I mean.”

“Oh! So you did!” Azirpahale laughed. “Was it very hard for you, darling?”

Crowley shook her head. “I mean, boys are taught languages and riding and stuff too, so some of it I had.” She smiled a little, remembering. “The dancing-master didn't know what to do with me, though. I'm not very graceful, and I learned the man's part so young, it took ages to remember where my feet should go.”

“Crowley, do you ride sidesaddle?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley winced. “Once.”

“Oh no.” Azirpahale held her hand to her mouth to hide a smile, hazel eyes dancing. “How bad was it?”

“Spent the whole summer with my arm in a sling after I snapped it in a fall,” Crowley said ruefully. “I ordered split skirts the next day.”

“Oh, Crowley!” Oh, she was _doomed_ , the way Aziraphale threw her arms around Crowley and cuddled her, demanded to know which arm it was, to touch gently and fuss and press a kiss to her forearm.

“It was nearly twenty years ago, darling,” Crowley said, unable to fight a smile. “I think I'm all better.”

“Shut up,” Aziraphale said. “I'll fuss if I like. You think I haven't noticed you watching every day, to see how easily I can move about?”

Crowley felt the heat come up in her cheeks. “I. I didn't. Er. Shit.”

Aziraphale smiled. “It's all right. It's sweet of you to care.” 

“Care my _arse_ ,” Crowley grumbled, rearranging them so Aziraphale could stroke her silly arm and they could look at one another and kiss again when they felt like it. It was starting to get quite dark in the Library, the last of the sunlight fading away, but Crowley didn't want to get up. Possibly ever.

“What else did you have to learn?” Aziraphale asked, her fingertips so soft as she touched over and over where bone had long ago healed, as if to check that all was well, and if it wasn't, she'd make it be.

“Auntie taught me to weave – I can't really embroider with my eyes the way they are,” Crowley explained. “Oh, I was born like that, too, with them all funny-looking.”

“I figured. But your eyes are beautiful, dearest,” Aziraphale said gently. “I think so, anyway.”

“'Course you do.” Crowley kissed her cheek. “It took me a bit to learn to read, but I can now – just gives me a screaming headache after about five minutes. You've seen my handwriting,” she added ruefully.

“It's not as bad as you think,” Aziraphale told her. “Oh – and someone taught you to do hair well?”

Crowley nodded. “One of my aunts – not the Queen, another one. She helped me with makeup, too.” She gave a little sigh, and snuggled close, tucking her head under Aziraphale's chin since she could just then. “I can sew  _very_ badly, and I sucked at hunting always. Um, what else? Gendered stuff, I mean, obviously I learned other things.”

Aziraphale traced her hairline with delicate fingertips. “Darling? How did you know?”

Crowley shrugged. “How did you know you were a woman? Like that. Only my outside bits don't match yours, so everyone called me a boy. But I just –  _knew_ . When I closed my eyes and imagined my body, it was a woman's body. Well, a girl's first, but then I grew up and nothing changed. I still...am startled, sometimes. By what I look like. Not always, and I feel pretty neutral about having a penis, but sometimes I'm surprised.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I see. Thank you.”

Crowley smiled and hugged her. “'Course. You can ask me anything. About anything.”

“I'll remember that. And same, you know. Anything you want,” Aziraphale promised.

“What does it feel like to have menses?” Crowley asked eagerly. “I always wanted to know, but it wasn't...um, the other women I've been with, or have even been _friends_ with weren't...they didn't know what to say?”

Aziraphale smiled, and started to stroke her back, long and easy and wonderfully comforting. “Hm, that's an interesting question. Honestly – it feels  _wet_ ,” she admitted, laughing, and Crowley giggled too. “Not like if you've wee'd yourself, it feels thicker than that, which makes sense. It's different for everyone, I think, but I always get a mighty backache, and I get cramps, right – oh, can I touch you to show you where?”

Crowley nodded, quietly thrilled to be the demonstratee. She rolled onto her back, and in the twilight, Aziraphale pressed her hand lightly in the bowl of her pelvis. “Right there. It aches – like a backache, but deep inside me. Sometimes I bleed heavy, and get very tired, or dizzy. Other times I hardly notice except when I'm changing out for clean rags.”

Crowley rested her hand on top of Aziraphale's and nodded, trying to imagine the feeling. Aching, fading away. Wet, having to keep a stock of clean rags. A day where it was easier to lie in bed and rest. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed her. “You're welcome. I'm due again in about a week,” she added ruefully. “If you want a live demonstration.”

Crowley laughed and squeezed her hand. “Poor girl. You must be nearly done with it, though?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Another decade, probably less.” She sat up and stretched, and laughed. “When did it get dark!” Curling around, she lit a pretty little lamp, casting gold and shadows across the bed. “Oh no, you're  _distracting_ . I was going to make you tea.”

Crowley smiled and stretched out, lush and happy in her body. “I feel wonderful, by the way. Thank you for the nap.” She sat up, bedclothes falling around her waist, and let Aziraphale get out of bed before following her, stretching and popping her back. “Ooof. What are you doing for supper, sweetheart?”

“Eating here as usual,” Aziraphale said warmly. “And you?”

“I don't have any plans,” Crowley said, suddenly a little shy. She'd monopolized Aziraphale's entire day...

“Eat with me? Please?” Aziraphale said. “Then I promise to let you go back to your own rooms. Only – I would very much like it if you stayed for a bit longer.”

“Of course.” Crowley giggled, feeling dizzy and off-kilter, and half-tumbled into Aziraphale's arms, the two women holding each other tightly. “I'll stay as long as you like, Aziraphale.”

“Oh, don't say that. I'll never let you leave,” she whispered, and Crowley only held her the tighter.


	8. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale returns from her first hunt, for something that isn't *not* a date with Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up for mild sexual content! Nothing is described in great detail, but Aziraphale does get herself off at one point :)

Aziraphale dismounted her horse, exultant. Perhaps a pair of conies wasn't the most impressive haul for a day's hunt, but Olwen had got them beautifully, and come right back to Aziraphale for her reward, so she counted the day as a good one. Chae had been a wonderful companion, showing her the lay of the land around the castle as much as taking her hunting, and she had a feel for where to go on rambles with Crowley now, before the snows came too thick. 

They hadn't talked much about Crowley, Aziraphale feeling a little shy about her new sweetheart and said new sweetheart's oldest friend, but there had been plenty to discuss between horses and weather and hawks – and, of course, the attention needed to send the hawks flying. Chae's Cully had got a partridge, and so they rode back well pleased with themselves, just as the sun was beginning to set, the winter light low and beautiful.

“Go get those to the kitchen, Maestra, I'll take the horses,” he promised.

“Oh, are you sure? I was taught how to care for them after a ride,” Aziraphale promised. “I've been covered in muck plenty.”

Chae laughed, and winked at her. “I believe you. But I'm sure, truly. Go and brag to Crowley for me, will you? She never believes me when I say I'm good at this.”

Aziraphale laughed, and took up their bounty. “Promise. Oh – do I talk to you if I wish to just go riding?”

“Yes, Maestra. The stable is at your disposal,” Chae said. 

“Thank you,” she said politely. “I have rather missed riding for the pleasure of it. And the land around here is lovely...”

“You're always welcome to go out on your own, or you can ask me, and I'll show you some good trails,” he offered, and she let him go to finally tend to their horses, good beasts that they were. She'd matched hers; a grey gown with a split skirt (she disliked sidesaddle, though hadn't as dramatic a reason as poor Crowley) and a lovely grey mare, spirited and lightfooted. A bit more jumpy than Aziraphale usually liked, but they got on well enough, and she reckoned she and Aster just needed some more time working together. Perhaps she could start riding every day again, or nearly that. The fresh air certainly did her good; she'd been bundled up in the library until Crowley had rescued her for the first of many adventures. And before that – she certainly hadn't been allowed to ride at Heaven's Court, not freely anyway.

But that was over now, and she was here in Terra, and she smiled, running into the castle and aiming for the kitchens – only to run into Crowley on the way.

“My dear!” She laughed and stood up on her tiptoes to reach Crowley a few steps up a small staircase. 

“Aziraphale!” Crowley kissed her soundly, and touched her face, smoothing back wind-blown hair. “Everything go all right?”

“I'm fine, you silly goose. Come here.” Aziraphale got an arm around her hips and whirled Crowley around to settle her softly on the floor, and kiss her cheek. “Fancy rabbit stew for dinner?”

“Did you get those?” Crowley asked.

“Well, technically Olwen did,” Aziraphale said. “Chae and Cully got the partridge.”

Crowley made a dismissive noise.

“Rude! He's lovely, and a wonderful huntsman. But come to the kitchen with me, and we'll get them to make you a stew for dinner,” Aziraphale chattered, arm around Crowley's waist. “And see if they'll save the skins so I can have them tanned, and make you mittens for the winter.”

“Who is this woman of the wild places?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale swept her along.

“Am I – too much?” Azirpahale asked shyly, stopping in a convenient alcove. “I'm sorry, I haven't even asked about your day. I'm awful.”

“Shhh, shh, no, darling. That wasn't a complaint,” Crowley assured her, and Aziraphale tried not to feel too awkward about _needing_ the reassurance. It was so stupid and babyish of her, but oh, it felt so good when Crowley hugged her, and gave her a little kiss. “You are absolutely stunning, by the by.”

“Crowley, I'm sweaty, smell like a horse, and I don't even want to think what my hair might be like,” Aziraphale said. “You're silver-tongued, but this is pushing it.”

“I mean it! I can smell the winter air in your skin and your cheeks are pink and you're practically glowing.” Crowley smiled softly. “You're moving easily.” A beat. “And you don't smell _much_ like horse.”

Aziraphale giggled. “I'll bathe before dinner, I promise. But here, I meant it – how was your day?”

Crowley shrugged as they set off for the kitchen again. “Nothing special. I worked at my loom, and taught Adam some astronomy and maths, and annoyed Auntie.”

“Clever woman,” Aziraphale said, and they ducked into the kitchen together for Aziraphale to drop off their bounty. She was shy again, but Crowley took over, charming the cook and getting them both the promise of rabbit stew – they would eat in Crowley's rooms that night.

“Where were you headed to, before I stole you away?” Aziraphale asked, as they went back to their shared wing of the castle.

“Oh.” Crowley looked at her toes. “Er. I went to see if you'd come back yet. You'd been gone a couple hours, and if anything had gone awry...”

“Chae was right there,” Aziraphale comforted. “And I'm fine, of course. You poor thing – would it help to tell you I've been thrown a few times and always been just fine?”

Crowley smiled. “No. I won't be this stupid always, I'm sorry. You're a good horsewoman, I know, I just...” she shrugged. “I just got you. I lose people, more than I get to keep them.”

“Well you're not bloody losing me,” Aziraphale said firmly, and Crowley gave her a soft, sideways smile.

Crowley walked her to the Library, and Azirpahale took her hands and kissed her at the door. “I know it's early for dinner, but may I come over after I've bathed?” she asked. “Promise I'll bring a bottle of something good.”

Crowley smiled. “Well, if you promise that,” she teased, and squeezed Aziraphale's hands. “I would love that, sweetheart.”

Another kiss, and then another because they couldn't really stop, and Aziraphale finally tore herself away – not least because drying sweat  _itched._

She hung her dress up to air, and set her underthings aside to be washed, wrinkling her nose a bit – she really _did_ smell like horse, Princess! A quick but much-enjoyed bath, scrubbing herself clean and sweet for her sweetheart, from the tips of her toes to washing her hair, the hot water easing any sore muscles – which she would certainly have tomorrow, after so long off of a horse. Perhaps it was a good day to sit and do some repairs on various books, before Crowley showed up to tow her off on some adventure.

Maybe that adventure would be Crowley's bed. Not for anything big, but Aziraphale _had_ so enjoyed snuggling under the covers and kissing and talking.

She ducked under the water to rinse her hair, and rose out of the tub, enjoying the modern conveniences and the fact that someone had kept the fire under the little boiler of water going. A quick rubdown, and she wrapped her hair and went to choose an outfit for the evening.

Her cream gown, she reckoned. A low, square neck, though not the lowest she owned, and embroidered in deep reds and greens, all pomegranates and roses. There lushest rose was hidden by a clever pleat, that when opened showed it resting just over her mons. She had felt very cheeky and sensual, ordering the gown made, and wondered if Crowley would spot it that night.

Crowley. Aziraphale closed her eyes and touched between her legs, almost without thinking. Pretty Crowley of the firey hair and firey eyes, who looked on her so tenderly, who laughed at her jokes and listened to her stories and kissed her, kissed her...

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, a little surprised by the wave of feeling that came over her, the thought of looking down and seeing Crowley looking _up_ , those big eyes on her, on her, her mouth working Aziraphale over, fingertips touching her belly, not minding the trauma from her old injury, touching, reaching up to her breasts –

Aziraphale cried out, one hand working between her legs, the other on one breast, the sweet little orgasm taking her by surprise. She plopped down on the floor, naked as could be, and caught her breath, and laughed at herself. “Oh, you're doomed, Maestra,” she murmured happily to herself. The last ripples of the orgasm eased through her body, and she breathed even, and rose to dress for her darling, still aching just a bit between her legs.

Her hair was still drying and Aziraphale determined that she simply could not be responsible for the mess of curls it would inevitably become. Her Maestra's fillet would do to keep it mostly out of her face, and the pretty blue and green enamel set off her eyes rather nicely, she thought. A good bottle of red in hand, she walked the short distance to Crowley's rooms and knocked politely, coming in at her sweetheart's call.

“I'd say you don't need to dress up for me, but I don't think you have any other option,” Crowley teased, rising from her seat by the fire and going to meet Aziraphale. The two of them met in a hungry embrace, and Crowley kissed her hello.

“I don't, but I'd dress up anyway. I like to be beautiful for you,” Aziraphale said simply, and smiled when Crowley made some noises and turned red.

“You're always beautiful for me,” she finally wheezed. “Drink?”

“Oh yes please,” Aziraphale sighed. “Open this, or save it for dinner?”

Crowley spotted the label and smiled. “Dinner, please – just pop it onto the table.”

By the time Aziraphale got back, Crowley had made simple cocktails for them, and Aziraphale sipped hers appreciatively.

They kind of hovered, standing, by the little bar.

An awkward silence fell.

“Oh _fuck_ no,” Crowley said out loud. “I am not giving up my _friend_ just because we're both really awkward at courting,” and this set Aziraphale giggling, and setting her drink aside to get her arms around Crowley for a kiss.

“You look so beautiful,” she said, and kissed her cheek. “Also, I just rode for several hours after a few months of not being on a horse at all. Can we sit?”

“Aziraphale! You absolutely ninny, of course! Can I get you anything?” Crowley fussed and fretted her over to the sofa and settled beside her, half-turned to face her and with an arm gentle around her waist.

“I'm fine,” Aziraphale promised, laughing. “Honestly, the drink is probably the best thing for me.” She sighed and stretched a little. “I'm going to be useless tomorrow, I'm afraid.”

“You couldn't be useless if you tried,” Crowley sniffed, but she did relax a little. She kept her arm around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale couldn't help but glow a little. Crowley liked touching her. She _liked_ Aziraphale's soft, squishy waist, and the wide curve of her hips. She probably didn't even mind that Aziraphale's belly was round and moved with her body, slumped and stretched and changed shape when she lay down.

Well, maybe that was asking a bit much, but her nightgowns were pretty, and naked-in-bed-together was some time away. She could learn if Crowley liked that or not.

“Watch me try,” Aziraphale teased gently, and snuggled a little closer, resting her head on Crowley's shoulder for a moment. “Will you come to the Library tomorrow so I may read to you, though? Maybe in the afternoon?”

“Of course, Aziraphale,” Crowley said. “But darling, you don't _have_ to read to me every day, if you have more important things to do.”

“There's nothing more important than you,” Aziraphale said automatically. “No, I mean it. And look, technically I'm here as a resource for the castle, but I haven't exactly been buried under requests for books or research. And I'd always make time for you, anyway.”

Crowley was quite red by now, and Aziraphale set her glass aside to give her a hug, and kiss her brow. She was corseted and painted beautifully; just an absolutely stunning woman, and Aziraphale was a little breathless that she somehow, some way, saw something in _Aziraphale_ to like. To be worthy of friendship, of the first flashes of desire, of maybe, someday...love?

“Why do you wear this?” Crowley asked, touching her fillet. “I mean, it's beautiful, but it's not just jewellery is it?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “No, darling. It's...a badge of office, I suppose. I was given it when I finished my studies, and when I die I'll be buried wearing it.”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale unobtrusively turned so she wasn't twisting quite so much, and the ache in her side eased. Crowley moved with her, she realised, giving her a little more room but not giving up any intimacy. Oh, she was a lucky woman.

“Did you like studying? I mean, aside from living in an ongoing lesbian orgy.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale giggled. “I mean. Some nights...” She sighed at happy memories, at the other young women who had explored their bodies and hers. Her first lover, who had been so gentle with her. Her body had been worse then, still freshly hurt, and she had helped Aziraphale learn what felt good and what didn't work, found the pleasure under the pain. Those were memories for later, though, when she was in bed alone. “I did enjoy it, very much. I'm a bit of a swot,” she admitted. “And I felt I had so much to prove. I'm the daughter of farmers who were the children of farmers, and so on. I didn't have much of an education, though Mama tried her best, and of course I was so young to enter; all the other girls and boys in my year were at least a year older.”

“Were they good to you?” Crowley asked sharply.

Aziraphale shrugged. “Mostly. A few were bullies, most left me alone. I don't know that I had very good friends, at least the first few years, but there wasn't anything truly cruel, or anything like that. And I learned to make friends as I got older.”

Crowley sniffed, making it clear she wasn't sure about this whole set-up. Aziraphale giggled, and asked what _she_ would have preferred.

“You were a baby who'd just been through war. You almost _died_ , and you lost your parents, my poor sweet,” Crowley said. “You should have been everyone's pet, a little gem who was adored and spoilt rotten, everyone's little sister. Beloved. Given everything you'd missed out on, with older students helping you study and your year-mates stealing you away to play so you didn't get too serious. Someone making sure you were all right on wet days, and helping you get around if you needed it.”

Aziraphale laughed. “You're so...I don't even know,” she said, pulling Crowley into a warm hug, their glasses empty and set aside so there was nothing keeping her from practically hauling the other woman into her lap. “You paint the most beautiful picture.” She smiled and winked. “I think who I really was at sixteen would have disappointed you. I was very shy, and very determined. A little...supercilious, at times. I don't blame the students who didn't much like me; I'm not sure I was all that much fun. I would have loved to be the pet of everyone, but I was there to work and to learn, and so was everyone else. I don't think anyone would have had the time to care for me, the way you envision.”

“Well, that's a them problem,” Crowley said. “If I'd been there, sod my studies, my job now is _you_.”

Aziraphale giggled again, and rested her head on Crowley's shoulder. “Silly, sweet Princess. I was fine, though. There was enough to eat, and our rooms were comfortable. I had a nice bed, and they kept us clothed and cared-for. There was a wonderful physician who helped me get some more strength back – my leg and tummy muscles are bit wonky and I have to work around that – and of course there were endless things to study and learn and read. I promise, even if I wasn't the pet of the school, I was so happy.”

“All right. As long as you were happy,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale hugged her again.

“What about you, dear girl?” she asked. “What schooling did you get?”

Crowley shrugged. “What you'd expect for a young royal, really. A governess when I was tiny, a fierce old thing named Ashtoreth.” She sighed happily. “I think she was my first crush. And then when I was a little older, tutors. It was hard because I had to learn a lot by listening and memorizing, but I'm good at that now. I wasn't a particularly dedicated student, and I'm not terribly...widely-educated?” She looked down. “And it all stopped when I was sixteen anyway. Just when you started.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale tilted her chin up, and kissed her, feather-soft. “I think you're brilliant.”

Crowley smiled. “You're blinded by affection.”

“Oh I very much am,” Aziraphale agreed. “You've turned me into a puddle of feelings and hormones and desire and affection, and I hope you're happy with yourself, Princess. But I also think you're brilliant, truly.”

Crowley half-smiled. “Well, that's one of you then.”

Aziraphale snorted. “Everyone else can fuck off. I'm right.” She slipped her arms around Crowley and tasted a lazy kiss from her mouth. “I think you're brilliant, and brave, and creative. Terra wasn't...a punishment, exactly, but it was considered fair for a used Maestra. But coming here is a reward like I could never have dreamed of.”

Crowley had squawked a little at that 'used Maestra' bit, but she quieted down, and set to kissing back, always soft and easy, and they sipped kisses from each other's mouths, hands slow and easy on waists and backs.

They'd have dinner, and talk more later. But for right now, truly the only thing Aziraphale wanted was to hold and be held, and kiss Crowley again and again and again.


	9. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale explore the castle a bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up for very minor injury. VERY MINOR. Not that the character who is injured would agree.
> 
> (GOSH WHO COULD IT BE)

Crowley tapped on the door to the Library and let herself in. “Angel?” she called, enjoying Aziraphale's new nickname perhaps a bit more than necessary.

“In the back,” came a distant call. Crowley followed it through the stacks to a funny little alcove that doubled as a reading nook that she definitely did not remember seeing before, at least not in this form. Mrs Moonchild must have been busy; there was a lovely thick cushion, practically a mattress, on a bench and plenty of pillows and blankets scattered about. And just next to it, Aziraphale's little book-repair workshop.

She looked up from her work when Crowley came into view, and grinned. “Let me finish gluing this and then you get your kiss, sweetheart.”

“Ew, _waiting_ ,” Crowley announced, and threw herself down on the floor by Aziraphale's chair with a little huff. She was not known for her patience, especially not when kissing Aziraphale was involved.

Trying not to give it away, she watched her Maestra glue down a new endpaper, not a drop escaping the smooth, marbled paper. Aziraphale closed up her glue, neatly set her supplies aside including the brush in a little pot of water, and finally settled the book under some weights and gave the Princess Crowley her overdue kiss.

For her part, Crowley was careful to pout for a moment even after the kiss, but, well. She was on her knees before Aziraphale, whose chair swivelled rather cleverly to face her, and Aziraphale's arms were about her waist and hers around Aziraphale's neck, and she was so sweet with her kisses.

“All right, demon,” she said, and smiled. “Help me up?”

“Oh, bad day?” Crowley asked kindly, scrambling up and then helping Aziraphale to stand.

“Well, not as such.” Aziraphale smiled, bashful. “I mean, my old injury is definitely not enjoying the weather. But also I'm terrifically out of shape, and riding yesterday – well, I'm quite sore!”

Crowley laughed and offered her an arm, and was glad she'd done so – Aziraphale was limping heavily, in addition to the tottering gait of anyone who has just discovered muscles they didn't know existed. At least they only went a little ways, settling quickly on the couch in the little nook. It was bright in there, despite the low, heavy skies.

“Maybe you can go out again tomorrow,” Crowley said kindly, and Aziraphale nodded, settling back with a happy sigh against the thick pillows, stretching her legs out with a little grunt along the length of the couch. Of course, she looked absolutely breathtaking, as per usual. Today's gown was a divergence – a deep blue, brilliant as a summer sky, embroidered in cream and gold.

“I meant to ask,” Crowley said, after she'd made sure Aziraphale was as comfortable as she could get. “Did you do this?” She fingered some pretty embroidery on a cuff, not _quite_ brave enough to touched the neck of the gown. This one wasn't quite as low-cut as some of the others; there was just the tiniest hint of chest, before the glorious swell of Aziraphale's bosom.

Crowley forced her eyes to focus on the embroidery she was touching, lest she get lost thinking about Aziraphale's breasts. Again.

“Oh, no, I'm not nearly that talented at stitchwork,” Aziraphale said. “I just designed my gowns, someone with skill made them.”

Crowley's jaw dropped. “ _Just_ ,” she squawked. “Just! Aziraphale, everything you've worn is a work of art!”

“Oh, stop.” Aziraphale blushed and giggled. “It's my little past time is all.”

“You seriously – oh my _God_ ,” Crowley groaned. She was sat by Aziraphale, the couch more than wide enough to support her luscious sweetheart _and_ Crowley's narrow arse. “They're beautiful. I know I'm all doolally over you but please believe me, they're all exquisite. You really designed them all?”

Aziraphale nodded shyly. “I had some help with the first few, but mostly, well, yes. Heaven's Court had...high standards for presentation,” she said tactfully. “I'll give Gabriel that – he's not stingy. I had free reign of the dressmakers, and they taught me a great deal. I was allowed to keep the dresses when I left.” She smiled, running her fingers over the embroidered details in the skirt. “I keep expecting wearing them to be painful, but they're so lovely, I'm just happy.”

“I'm so glad,” Crowley said softly, tracing a gentle finger, following the careful pattern. It was organic, some kind of vine, and it complimented Aziraphale's body beautifully.

She frown, feeling something odd under the thin fabric. “What --”

“That's me,” Aziraphale said softly. “That's the scar, darling. It's not just a mark on my skin. It destroyed muscle and damaged bone, some of which I never healed from.”

“Oh, Aziraphale.” Crowley leaned over and tumbled into her arms, and wasn't sure who was comforting whom. It probably didn't matter. “My darling girl.”

“Shh, now. Did you find the secret in the embroidery?”

“What, a flower over your cunny again?” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale laughed, and nudged her to sit up.

“No, darling, I'm not _that_ repetitive.” She took Crowley's hand and laid it over a line of embroidery, tracing her fingertips over it. “I drew the scar into the embroidery. Same pattern on the other side so you can't much tell, but it's there. I made it beautiful.”

Crowley was not going to bawl all over Aziraphale, she _wasn't_. It was a long time ago, and her darling one was alive and glowing and warm, had healed, wasn't stopped by anything. Or if she was, for just a little bit of time. Soft hours snuggled in bed, at least if Crowley had anything to say about it. So she just nodded, and waited for the lump in her throat to clear.

“Oh look!” she said, blinking and staring off into the distance, trying to clear her eyes. “Snow!”

Aziraphale gave a little cry of joy and popped up – nearly headbutting Crowley's nose, which made them both giggle – and squirmed around to kneel with minimal ouchy-face, gazing out of the window.

Crowley went to kneel next to her, an arm around Aziraphale's waist in case she needed to lean on something, and they watched tiny flakes begin to fill the air. Just spitting at first, and not sticking of course, but soon more and more came, the wind swirling them around in a tiny blizzard that would do no harm.

Aziraphale laughed out loud, her nose almost pressed to the glass. “It's beautiful!”

“Winter's here,” Crowley noted, and reached for a convenient blanket. Aziraphale did not appear to feel the cold, but _Crowley_ sure did.

“Oh, sweetheart.” A warm arm around her waist, and they snuggled together under the soft wool, watching the first snowfall of the season together, giggling as they watched the little flakes whirl in the wind.

They had arranged to have lunch sent to Crowley's room, which meant, eventually, moving.

“I can bring it here,” Crowley offered, helping her up.

Aziraphale folded the blanket neatly, returning it to the little sofa. “No, no – a bit of a walk will do me good, you know? Loosen up sore muscles or whatnot.” She made a face, and stretched, and made a face again. “I am unspeakably grateful to whoever ensured access to hot baths, incidentally.”

Crowley grinned as they started through the stacks, Aziraphale scanning them automatically as they walked, re-memorizing were things were. And possibly scouting for the next book they'd read together; they were already halfway through the current one. “That would be Grandfather. He did like pulling us all kicking and screaming into something like the present.”

“Blessings on his name,” Aziraphale said fervently. Her gait was still uneven, and would be, Crowley reckoned, until the air dried out. But she was losing the sore-muscle totter, and was gradually un-tensing. “Darling, I want to read to you of course, but can we go exploring? I feel better, moving about.”

“Of course,” Crowley said. “There's loads you haven't seen, even just in the castle. We can go annoy Chae, too, and make sure there's a horse for you tomorrow if you like.”

“Really no one will mind if I make use of the stables?” Aziraphale asked shyly.

“Good God, they'll give you a raise. _Someone_ in this family ought to be horsey,” Crowley noted. “Oh, bring a shawl or something, otherwise you'll freeze your tits off. Half this monstrosity's never been heated.”

Aziraphale laughed and selected a cloak of soft white wool. “This will keep me plenty warm, and you too, when whatever fashionable silk thing you bring fails to keep a flea warm,” she teased, and smiled shyly, pausing in the doorway. “I'm family?”

Crowley swallowed hard. Showing your hand too soon, demon. She's not been here a fortnight, stop scaring her off. “Well, I mean, you said yourself. You're not a servant, and you have to put up with us lot regularly.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes, and Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. 'Yes, I want to see you every day for the rest of my life, be my beloved and be my family and my hearth and my home' would probably have been overkill. _Was_ overkill. She adored Aziraphale, but it was worth being gentle with this new baby love between them. Worth being gentle with each other, not to end things before they'd begun.

“I do not _put up_ with you,” Aziraphale was lecturing. “For one, you're literally the only member of the royal family I've spent any time with, though I expect I'll start to see young Adam about as his studies intensify.”

“If he doesn't behave, I'll hang him over the gate by his toenails, and you can tell him that from me,” Crowley said darkly. He was a good enough child, she supposed, but twelve-year-old boys thought some things were funny that really, really weren't. If he did anything to sadden Aziraphale or hurt her beautiful Library, Uncle and Auntie might have to try for another heir quickish.

“I'm sure he'll be just fine,” Aziraphale said, and slipped her hand into Crowley's, giving it a little squeeze. “So yes. If you're truly sure no one minds, I would love to ride again tomorrow, if the weather clears.”

“No one minds,” Crowley said. “I promise. And I love seeing you doing something that makes you happy, for the record.”

Aziraphale looked over at her with a sudden, sweet smile. “Where do you want to explore today? I want to see a place _you_ love.”

Crowley grinned. “Well, there's the wine cellar of course...”

Aziraphale laughed and bumped her shoulder against Crowley's warm and sweet. “Of course _there_.”

“And it's not a place I love, but I'll show you where the infirmary is properly,” Crowley promised. “Just in case. They might have a salve or something that could help your sore bits. And, er. We have a chapel, if you want to see it? It's nothing special, but the stained glass is pretty.”

“I would love that,” Aziraphale said, surprised. “Thank you. How big _is_ this place?”

“Too bloody big,” Crowley groaned, letting them into her apartments. “Go make yourself comfortable, sweetheart, I'll hang your cloak up.”

Aziraphale smiled and handed it over with a kiss. “I'll fix us some tea. You still look half frozen from being in the window.”

Crowley rolled her eyes – she was perhaps a tiny bit chilly at _worst_ – but she also didn't argue. Aziraphale made tea better than she did, anyway.

They had a wonderful lunch together, teasing and joking and chattering about this and that over the warm, hearty meal, the perfect set-up for an afternoon of chasing around a bitter castle. Crowley even dressed sensibly; a vast wool shawl, light and wonderfully warm that trailed nearly to her knees. All in black, of course to match her gowns.

“Angel?” she asked, as they headed for the wine cellar first, of course. Crowley had even brought along a little basket to select a couple of bottles to keep them going for the next few days. “Would you design me a dress?”

“Truly?” Aziraphale stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, genuinely surprised. “If you'd like, of course.”

“I'd like! I'd like a lot!” Crowley laughed, leading the way down a side corridor. “My clothes are all right, I like my gowns. But I want something _beautiful_.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “I'll see what I can do, Crowley. I'll make some sketches and you can pick what you like best.”

Crowley just grinned, and took a turn, ending up in a sunny, bright, almost painfully clean foyer. “Infirmary,” she said, gesturing around. There were plenty of shelves filled with neat boxes, and just past a partition there were beds laid out, all thankfully empty for the moment.

Aziraphale bowed to the matron sat at her desk, and shyly asked after a few things, teas and such for cramps and a salve for sore muscles, and soon Crowley's basket was pressed into service to carry them back up, and the two of them were on their way, soon bundling gratefully into their warm clothes as they headed towards the unheated parts of the castle.

“Mostly storage,” Crowley said as they passed door after door. “Ice from the mountains there – very nice in summer – more storage, boring storage. I have never bought a piece of furniture in my life, I just come down here and rummage about.”

Aziraphale shook her head, a little in awe. “I grew up in a house about the size of one of those rooms,” she said.

Crowley slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Were you happy? As a kid?”

“Blissfully,” Aziraphale said. “Were you?”

Crowley shrugged. “It was okay, sometimes. I liked running wild, and there was a lot of wild where I grew up. But mostly I felt wrong, y'know? Everyone kept calling me a boy, and I wasn't. And Mum and Dad were...strict. Not really sure what to do with the wild kid with yellow eyes that didn't work right who kept stealing dresses.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped them again, dead in the middle of the corridor, and looked her in the eye. “There is not one thing wrong with you. There never has been. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, now,” Crowley said. “Not then.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Aziraphale said helplessly, and just pulled her into one of those incredible hugs, all soft and expansive and strong, cuddling Crowley against the whole world. “You always belonged. _Always_.”

“Yeah,” Crowley whispered, and she didn't pull away, not until it was clear that Aziraphale would be perfectly all right standing here and holding Crowley until the world ended. It was _damp_ and _cold_ , and her old injury was playing up enough as it was even if she swore the strain from riding was all gone. Time to get moving again; they could stay still when they were someplace warm and soft and comfortable.

“Come on,” Crowley said softly. “You'll love this.” She smiled and took Aziraphale's hand, leading her again through winding passageways and up and down stairs, to the tiny family chapel tucked away in what had to be the coldest corner of the castle.

It was small but beautiful, white-washed walls painted in gorgeous scenes, all in bright yellows and reds, bold images that told stories. And high, narrow windows that even in the weak winter light shone all the colours of the rainbow down on the pews. Aziraphale laughed and walked up the aisle towards the tiny altar, gazing around her.

Something told Crowley to hang back, and just watch her. Watch her be painted with light, watch her face light up as she caught this or that little detail, or admired a statue or carving. Watch her be beautiful, and full of joy at the beauty of the world.

She reached the end of the aisle and turned, a gorgeous contrappasto, and smiled up the aisle at Crowley. “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

Crowley grinned and started towards her, until she stepped down and there was a sharp and sudden pain in her foot. “Ow!”

“Crowley!”

“Ow! Bloody ow!” She limped and hopped her way up the aisle, cursing a bit and finally flopping down on a pew, craning to look at her foot. “Fuck, ow!”

“You did _not_ just say that in a _chapel_ ,” Aziraphale groaned, dropping to her knees before her. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“What is it? I stepped on something.” She craned her head some more, twisting around to look at the bottom of her foot, and winced at the little shards of glass sticking out.

“Tell me about it. Someone must have dropped a glass.” Aziraphale had eased her slipper off and was making her own face. “Oh, poor thing, no wonder you were practically dancing. Hold still, all right? I can get them out at least...”

“Bugger,” Crowley muttered. “Thanks.” She lay back on the pew, one leg propped up on the armrest, and winced and yelped her way through the short surgery. It was only about half as bad as she let on; but this was _ridiculous_. Of course she had derailed their day with a stupid foot full of glass. She could have predicted this.

“There we go,” Aziraphale said, having made a neat pile of shards in her handkerchief. She used Crowley's hankie to wrap her foot, and slid her slipper back on. “You know, if you wore real shoes, you'd never have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley muttered. “Argh.” She liked being able to feel the floors, know where she was by touch alone.

“Poor darling,” Aziraphale said. “Let's get you to the infirmary at least. I know it hurt, but I don't think it's very bad, and they should be able to bandage you up properly.”

“Oh it hurts all right,” Crowley grumbled. Silly, all this fuss, and not even a _kiss_.

“You ridiculous duck,” Aziraphale said warmly, and helped her up, and Crowley had to relent a _little_ as she got her consolatory kiss. Her first few steps were genuinely cautious, but with the glass out, it didn't hurt _so_ very much. Which didn't stop her from complaining the entire way back to the infirmary. Not least because it made Aziraphale laugh, and it wasn't serious anyway. Might even be a funny story someday, a little joke they'd always share. That was worth a few shards of glass and a ruined slipper.

And she did get a good belly laugh when Aziraphale pointed out they had matching limping gaits for the moment, and cackled something about bringing Crowley over to _her_ side. And if it felt warm and good to share this, even temporarily, to have Aziraphale not be alone in this, well, no one needed to know.


	10. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a little celebration, Aziraphale spends the night. Important things are said.

Aziraphale held Crowley's hand while a nurse bandaged her foot, since it seemed the proper thing to do. The small cuts were painful, but not deep, and Crowley would be right as rain in _at most_ a few days, which was likely why she was kicking up a mighty fuss, and only grew quiet at the painful cleaning. It should have been annoying, her loud bitching and whining and moaning about her ruined slipper.

It was _fucking adorable_. Crowley was behaving like a spoilt child, and all Aziraphale wanted to do was spoil her even more, cuddle her and reassure her that everything would be well, fuss over her poor foot and promise her brand-new silk slippers. She was utterly disgusted with herself, but also when Crowley smiled at her and took her hand as they left, she felt like she could take on the world.

Hand-in-hand, they explored the cellars gone winter-cold, and picked a few bottles for later, the unfortunate patient of course given first choice.

Next it was time to annoy Chae and gain the promise of a horse saddled and ready for the Maestra just after breakfast on the morrow, assuming the weather stayed dry.

“Don't suppose you'd go out with her?” Chae asked Crowley with a wink. “She's prettier'n me.”

“So's the horse,” Crowley said. “And no. I nearly died already today, I'm not going to tempt fate again.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Aziraphale said, finally pushed to her limits, and of course Chae had to be told the whole tale, in gorey detail. The fact that Crowley was standing there clearly suffering no lasting harm, the tiny white bandage around her foot _barely_ noticeable, might have offered some clue that she was not exactly in danger of amputation and certain death. That, and Aziraphale's interjections of the truth.

Chae, who had presumably survived Crowley's minor injuries before, laughed his head off. “Of course you couldn't walk on hallowed ground, demon,” he said, and Crowley yowled in indignation and stalked off.

“They don't pay you enough,” Aziraphale told Chae, lingering to say a proper goodbye.

He winked. “You signed up for this, Maestra.”

She made an angry noise. “She's _charming_. Why is this _charming_? Why am I not launching her off of a battlement like I frankly ought to?”

Chae snickered at her, and honestly Aziraphale didn't blame him. “Look, you figure out Crowley, you let me know. I've been friends with her since she was five, I still haven't figured out why.”

Aziraphale sighed deeply. “Well, fuck. Right, I should catch up with her. Thank you for sorting out Aster – see you tomorrow?”

He gave her a lazy salute. “Go take care of our demon. She missed out on someone caring about her hurts for a few years there.”

Oh, why had he said _that_? Now she was just going to be a puddle of emotion and possibly cry and be unbearable.

Running was off the table, but she walked as quickly as she could, of course practically ploughing into Crowley around the next turn.

“Silly girl,” she scolded. “Thought I was going to have to find you in this maze.”

Crowley was a little red in the face, and Aziraphale thought, perhaps, she'd heard something. “What Chae said – ”

“He's ridiculous. I'm fine.” She smiled, and kissed Aziraphale. “Tea in my rooms, then?”

“I would love that,” Aziraphale said softly. Crowley was fine, but Chae wasn't silly. And she was damn well going to do as he'd asked. The taking care of, anyway, she was pretty sure she'd never figure out Crowley.

She got a fair measure of fussing in once they got back to Crowley's apartment, urging her to settle on the sofa and put her feet up, building up the fire so it roared and crackled companionably, and making tea hot and strong.

“I'm sorry you got hurt. But the chapel was beautiful,” she said, settling quite nearby, ready and willing to slip onto the little sofa for cuddles.

“I'm sorry I got hurt too,” Crowley said with great dignity. “And good. I liked the cellars better myself, though.”

“Understandable,” Aziraphale said through giggles, and topped up Crowley's tea, coddling and caring for her all the rest of that day. Mindful of what Chae had said; Crowley had missed out on spoiling and love and caring. Aziraphale guessed it was mostly around when she'd started to live as herself, and when she got sent away. Crowley didn't talk much about those years, and Aziraphale certainly didn't pry. Just tried to show, with word and action and touch that those years were _long_ over and gone, and Crowley had lots of people who cared about her now. Aziraphale among them.

She went riding the next day as it dawned sunny and dry and cold, and for several days after, getting calluses and muscle tone and form back day after day. There wasn't a rhythm to her days exactly, and she was glad of it; rather there was the kaleidoscope of work and reading to Crowley, exploring with Crowley, going on long rambles with Crowley, riding alone or with Chae or with one of the infirmary nurses who had also proved to be quite horsey, and was quick becoming a friend. Actual work came through as well; the King needed some treaty researched, and Aziraphale disappeared into the stacks for two solid days, searching for precedent and textual evidence and trade records. It was the first time since she'd met Crowley that they hadn't seen each other for forty-eight hours, but she emerged victorious, and with proof that Terra was owed considerably more for the bales of wool it exported.

She was released from her meeting with the King, and immediately found Crowley to tell her the good news and demand a celebration. And some kisses.

“Let's never do this again,” she murmured, as Crowley kissed a line down her throat. “I'll drop by to say goodnight. Or you come and kiss me good morning.”

“I can do that,” Crowley mumbled, the two of them tangled on her expansive sofa, her hands everywhere, holding and caressing. Aziraphale was a little more cautious back, not wanting to touch where she wasn't welcome, but she kissed Crowley lavishly, finding the soft spot under her ear that made her shudder and moan.

“Oh, you _beauty_ ,” she whispered, and hooked an arm under Crowley's arse – such as it was – and hauled her closer, kissing, kissing again, mouths opening as they hungrily made up for lost time. Crowley was wearing a waist cincher today, not a full corset, and Aziraphale laid a hand on her chest. “Is this all right?”

“If you want to feel up nothing, go wild,” Crowley offered.

“Shut up. You have breasts, they're just small. I've made love to other women who are just as flat-chested as you,” Aziraphale told her, in between kisses down the front her dress, loving her spare, beautiful figure.

Crowley paused. “Sorry, is that a roundabout way of telling me you've, uh, been with someone...like me?”

“No, it's my direct way of telling you that some people who are born into women's bodies have very small breasts, like yours.” Aziraphale smiled at her. “I haven't been with anyone like you – I mean, who everyone thought was a boy but was actually a girl.”

“Oh,” Crowley said, and she blushed, and Aziraphale kissed her again and again.

“We'll find what works for us, when the time comes, all right?” she murmured, and Crowley relaxed in her arms and nodded.

“When the time comes,” she agreed, and it was back to kissing, and Crowley's turn to shyly rest a hand one one of Aziraphale's breasts, and ask if it was okay.

It was _extremely_ , enthusiastically okay.

They managed to kiss themselves out – for the moment – and even get various articles of clothing back into place by the time dinner arrived, complete with an extra bottle of sparkling wine for Aziraphale in thanks.

“Oh, we're celebrating you tonight,” Crowley said, grinning at the very notion.

“I did my _job_ ,” Aziraphale protested. “It's nothing special!”

“But you are,” Crowley countered, popping the cork. “Something special, I mean.”

Aziraphale just blushed crimson, and let herself be gathered up for a lingering kiss, Crowley's hand resting on her bottom like it was squeezable and cute, her other hand caressing her messy braids. And then, they proceeded to get beautifully, wonderfully, happily drunk, toasting each other and the world, the King and Queen, books and snow and kissing, all until it was quite late at night, and Aziraphale was sober enough to start yawning her head off.

“Urgh. I should go back,” she sighed from where she was lounging on the sofa, swinging one leg idly back and forth, a pale little foot peeking out from the edge of her gown. For some reason it had become very important to be barefoot at some point.

“Stay here,” Crowley said. “You're wrecked.” She paused. “ _I'm_ wrecked. And I have a giant bed.” She squinted at Aziraphale. “Not sure I've got a nightgown that'll fit your tits, mind. Pity.”

Aziraphale made a face back. “I can sleep in my shift, you eejit. And you sure?” She tried to look pathetic. “It'd be nice to not go back to my bed, probably cold and I don't want to muck with the bedwarmer.”

“You don't have to wheedle me when I _offered_ ,” Crowley pointed out, and hauled herself up, definitely more sleepy than drunk, although also very definitely tipsy. “Come on, you sot.”

“You matched me _drink for drink_ ,” Aziraphale pointed out, but also let Crowley haul her up and followed her to the bedroom. She wriggled out of her gown easily enough, and hung it up to air while Crowley took care of her nightly ritual in the bathroom, emerging with bare face and hair loose around her shoulders.

Aziraphale loved that their hair matched; curls and waves falling to their waists, Crowley's a brilliant fire-red against her own silver-gilt blonde. Together, they were strikingly beautiful, and she was overcome for a moment, needing to pull her girl in for a kiss.

Crowley kissed back, smiling shyly, and Aziraphale dotted a few more kisses over her face. “You're so beautiful,” she whispered, and got a tight hug back.

“Your turn, drunkard,” Crowley teased, and Aziraphale kissed her one more time before going to wash her face and take care of other such things. She was tipsy, certainly, mostly feeling warm and good and easy. She took her time, wanting to give Crowley plenty of time to change in private, before she emerged again and crawled into the vast bed.

It was almost lonely there, under the heavy blankets, and she wondered if Crowley felt like this every night. Maybe not; she was used to it after all. But after her own little bed, Aziraphale was grateful when Crowley, resplendent in a long flannel nightdress, crawled in beside her. She settled close enough to share a pillow and snuggle together, far enough to see one another in the low light from a candle still burning.

“Are you comfortable?” Crowley asked softly, tracing the line of Aziraphale's jaw. “I know you sleep with a pillow for your legs...”

“I'm wonderful,” Aziraphale assured her. “Truly, I'm very comfortable.” She yawned, and giggled. “I don't want to sleep! I want to enjoy being in bed with you!”

Crowley laughed at that, and tapped her nose. “Can I ask you a favour?”

“Of course, anything,” Aziraphale said, feeling sweet, sleepy, but also like she could definitely stay awake a little longer to talk and kiss.

“In the morning, um. Could you...not kiss my face, please?” Crowley asked, eyes downcast between them. “Not til I've had time to. Well. I get...stubble? And I don't want you to feel it.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Of course, sweetheart, I promise.” She thought a moment. “May I kiss your hand, or the top of your head instead? Or do you just want some privacy and to be left alone?”

Crowley smiled, sweet and bashful again. “Oh, Aziraphale. Um. Yeah, kissing me not on my face is fine. If you want. I mean, I know I'm assuming a lot...”

“Yes, because if there's one thing that defines us, it's that neither of us are very touchy-feely people,” Aziraphale said dryly. “Thank you, darling.” She snuggled down a little more, and reached for Crowley's hand, just weaving their fingers together. “And thank you for putting me up for the night.”

Crowley laughed. “Yeah, it's a hardship on my part. Oh bugger – breakfast!”

“I'm last on Min's rounds – I'll write a note on your door to leave my breakfast here too,” Aziraphale said, pushing herself up. “Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail, dearest.”

“Aziraphale you don't have to –,” Crowley tried to protest, then sighed and smiled. “You know where my writing paper is. And thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” A little kiss to her forehead, and she was up, padding silently through the chilly apartment. Her shift was of flannel, at least, so she would only sort of freeze, she noted ruefully. More encouragement to write quickly, to tack the note to Crowley's door, and to get back to the warm bed as soon as possible, blowing out the candle at Crowley's request and snuggling under the heavy blankets again.

“You are literally going to freeze to death right under my nose,” Crowley complained, and pulled her in close, rubbing her toes along Aziraphale's chilly feet.

“You're so dramatic,” Aziraphale sighed, but let herself be pulled close, to rest her head on Crowley's chest. She lifted one hand to kind of halfheartedly feel her up, but mostly just to _feel_ , as wiry arms gathered her close.

“You're so beautiful,” Crowley murmured. “How'd I get such a pretty woman, huh?”

“By being kind and good and brilliant. And pretty beautiful yourself,” Aziraphale murmured. She trailed a hand down Crowley's waist, now soft and straight, and her bony hip, always careful not to touch where Crowley hadn't told her she might. She tipped her head up for a long, liquid kiss, their mouths opening, tongues exploring.

Aziraphale gave a little moan and arched her back, and moaned again when she felt Crowley's hand cupping one of her breasts, thumb finding her nipple and rubbing it softly.

“Fuck,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale kissed her hard, hand slipping down her thigh, pushing their bodies together –

“Oh!” She said, startled, and laughed. “Oh, right.”

“Oh, right,” Crowley said drily. “Please tell me you did not actually _forget_ I have a cock.”

“...maybe?” Aziraphale offered. “Is that...I'm sorry, I think I just horrifically insulted you.”

“You didn't,” Crowley said, laughter in her voice. “Sorry I killed the mood.”

“The fuck you did,” Azirphale said, the unaccustomed foul language cutting through any uncertainty and startling Crowley into a smile. “I did, if anyone. My gorgeous girl, I adore your body, and that includes your cock.” She kissed under Crowley's chin. “Not tonight. We're both a lot tired and a little drunk. But you make me ache for you, Crowley.”

Crowley groaned, and buried her face in Aziraphale's hair. “ _How_?”

“Seriously? You are so beautiful. I want you. I want to climb you like a tree. I want to make you laugh and show you beautiful things like you've done for me ever since I pulled you out of a rainstorm,” Aziraphale tried to explain. “Look, Crowley. I am attracted to your brain. I think you're incredibly clever and I love to talk to you and go on adventures and have fun with you. But also, frankly, I think you are _unbelievably gorgeous_ and I want to lick you from head to toe and make you scream my name. And then just scream. Because you can't make words. Because of me,” she said, trying to be as clear as possible. “Princess Crowley of the Kingdom of Terra, I would like to fuck you raw,” she finished, reckoning she'd better put her intentions out there.

Crowley whimpered, falling back with her eyes closed. “Of _course_ I get a dirty-mouthed angel,” she moaned. “Of course. I'm gonna die. But angel, I'm gonna die so happy.”

“Only a little death,” Aziraphale said, and when Crowley was howling with laughter, crawled back into her arms and kissed her. “I'm not – I want a little longer,” she tried to explain. “I want to go slow, be sure this is right for both of us, and learn your body more. But do not ever, _ever_ mistake that for not absolutely wanting to jump your bones.”

“Same,” Crowley wheezed. “Oh my God, same. Aziraphale, I love you.” And she gasped, gold eyes wide.

“I love you too, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. Sure, they hadn't known each other a month yet. But she damn well knew this. “Oh, darling. I love you too.”

“Oh,” Crowley said in a small voice, and it was her turn to be cuddled and kissed and petted, safe in the circle of Aziraphale's arms, adored.

Aziraphale hid a flare of rage at Crowley's parents. Sure the love she felt was different, that of a lover rather than a parent, but how could _anyone_ have a daughter like Crowley and not adore her? How could they have stopped loving her? Once you loved Crowley, Aziraphale was _sure_ you couldn't stop. You couldn't give up this meteor of chaos and creativity and affection. What kind of person did you have to be, to look at a beautiful, accomplished, passionate woman, and throw her out?

“I love you,” she whispered again, and tucked Crowley's face a little closer to the warmth of her body. Fuck them. She'd love Crowley extra, just to make up for the years without. It would be as easy as breathing.


	11. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season means that Aziraphale and Crowley both busy, and forced to spend more time apart than either would like -- until a sudden accident brings them together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought I would write self-indulgent fic and NOT have regular doses of hurt/comfort?
> 
> Minor-but-frightening character injury near the end of this chapter. Everyone will be fine soon, I promise.

Crowley woke up slow, knowing a few things. She was in her bed, big and warm and soft. It was deliciously warm in her bedroom. It was bright, too; a sunny day was promised.

And she was alone. It was this that got her to blink awake and sit up, blankets falling around her. Had she dreamed it all?

For a moment, just a moment, she wondered if she had dreamed Aziraphale at all, if the new Maestra Librarian who loved her and was her friend and would be her lover someday was just images in her mind. If her bed had always been empty –

Of course not. She relaxed, waking up the rest of the way, and not incidentally hearing the rattle of breakfast things in the other room. Aziraphale was right here with her, and they were both so happy.

“Oh good, you're up!” Aziraphale came in holding a steaming mug and grinning, perhaps a little _too_ awake for first thing in the morning. She came over to Crowley and bussed the top of her head, and handed her the mug – coffee, hot and strong and good. “Good morning, love.”

Oh no. Crowley was going to die before even making love to Aziraphale. The thought of this indignity alone kept her heart ticking over and even though actually she wanted to explode at the notion of being Aziraphale's love.

“Morning,” she croaked, because she was nothing if not smooth, desirable, and sexy.

“D'you want breakfast in bed?” Aziraphale asked. “I can bring it in.”

Crowley shook her head, trying to wake up a little faster. “No, no. Give me five minutes, and I'll eat at the table with you.” She yawned, and made a face, and gulped down about half a cup of coffee. “Go 'head, I know you're ravenous.”

“You _are_ a dear,” Aziraphale said, and kissed the top of head again, and swept out. In lieu of a dressing-gown, she had bundled up in Crowley's big woollen shawl. It was painfully cute.

She would have to keep a dressing-gown and slippers on hand, for next time Aziraphale spent the night, Crowley realised as she set about her morning ablutions, including taking care of the hated stubble on her face. And a nightgown – it wouldn't do to make her sleep in her shift again. A few nightgowns, perhaps, for different seasons...

Crowley whistled to herself, wandering out to the table were Aziraphale was already happily tucking in.

“Kiss for real,” she requested, and got a rather scrummy, jam-flavoured kiss for her troubles, from an upturned angel-face.

“There's nothing less real about not kissing your face,” Aziraphale told her prissily, and Crowley was in such a good mood she made faces where Aziraphale almost certainly couldn't see, whilst filling her plate.

“You sleep all right?” she asked, when the first round of eating eased.

“Perfectly,” Aziraphale said. “I'm just an early riser.” She smiled and reached across the table, and Crowley laced her fingers with Aziraphale's soft, plump ones. God, she never wanted to let go. “You? I'm the one as invaded your bed, after all.”

Crowley snorted. “The hell you did. And yes. I slept wonderfully.” She touched her thumb to Aziraphale's, and gathered up every grain of her courage. “I love you.”

Oh, her angel's face. The sunrise was going to get jealous. “Oh, Crowley. I love you too.” She giggled, and leaned over the table and kissed Crowley again. “Let's do this again. Share a bed, I mean. It was so nice falling asleep, holding you.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said softly, remembering laughter and tenderness, a warm regard for her body. Gentleness, combined with the filthy talk. “It was nice. Um. On my end too.”

Aziraphale just smiled wider.

They lingered over breakfast, until it was really shockingly far into the morning and Aziraphale threw on yesterday's dress to get to her rooms, and kissed her again.

“I'll see you soon?” she asked, arms around Crowley's waist.

“Soon,” Crowley promised, and kissed her cheek. “Go well, maestra.”

“Go well, Princess.” One last last kiss, for true this time, and Aziraphale left in a swirl of embroidered fabric, her hair still loose down her back in a riot of waves and curls.

And then it was the holiday season, and their days together turned into stolen hours, stolen kisses when they were both run off their feet, and the rare evening together after Crowley had finished squiring around some distant relative and Aziraphale had copied down the year's records, brought to her by each farm and entered in perfect handwriting into a great ledger. Their normally quiet wing of the castle came alive with various visitors and relations, a number of them very loud children. The Library, always a dear place to Crowley (well, recently anyway) became a peaceful refuge. And she _liked_ children.

They were enjoying a night together in early December, splitting a bottle of wine when Aziraphale took a sketchbook from her desk and brought it over to the sofa. “D'you remember when you asked me to make you a dress?”

“Do I! Have you had time to work on it?” Crowley asked, instantly thrilled. Aziraphale had so much more to work on, so much that was _important_ , and they did spend an awful lot of their free time kissing in one corner or another – or one sofa or another, if they got time to go back to someone's place.

“A bit. I'm not really close to done, but I wanted to show you the designs as they were now, so you could tell me any changes you wanted,” Aziraphale explained. “These are very rudimentary, and you won't offend me at all if you don't like any of them.”

Crowley snorted. “Hush up and let me see _ohmyGod_ , _Aziraphale_!”

She should have expected it. If these were rudimentary designs, what was Aziraphale's final product, a stunning oil painting? To be fair, they were certainly unfinished sketches, soft and pencilled, but they were beautiful.

Aziraphale had sketched out five dresses for her altogether. Some were simpler, closer to what she wore habitually, and but there was one that was rich in embroidery – she'd even used coloured inks to show the crimson and gold details, all on a black ground of course. Crowley recognized motifs that appeared often in Aziraphale's own dresses, specific flowers and vines. And – oh, that made her heart do strange and wonderful things; there was a pleat with a hidden rose that would fall just where Aziraphlae's did.

“I want them all,” she said, and meant it.

Aziraphale giggled. “Crowley! I mean, of course you can have them all, but truly. If there's anything you don't like...”

Crowley shook her head. “Aziraphale, I mean it. I love them.” She brushed her fingers over one design. “Only...”

“What is it, love?”

“I know there's nothing there to show off, but can you make the neckline on this lower? Like what you have on now,” Crowley said, turning and brushing her fingertips over the soft skin of Aziraphale's bosom, the square neck of her dress showing off the swell of her breasts, the soft lines of her body.

“My dear, of course! And you have plenty to show off – I keep telling you, your bosom may be small, but it's lovely. The lines of your collarbones...” Aziraphale gave a happy little sigh.

Crowley laughed, but didn't protest too much. Frankly, as she went to the trouble to wax her chest, she rather wanted it to be worth it. And a pretty, low-cut dress would be worth it.

(A week prior, when Aziraphale had pulled the neck of her nightdress aside and kissed the hollows of her collarbones – that had been worth it. That had been _so_ worth it, to receive those kisses. To return them, to nuzzle the soft, plump lines of Aziraphale's chest, to kiss her breasts through skin-warm flannel! Oh, she had better pull her attention back to the drawings, or the night would be over before it began.)

They went over the fine details of the embroidery, and Crowley found one or two things she wanted to change, which seemed to please Aziraphale, so she asked her why.

“Because this way we're making these dresses together. You'll wear my art, but I'll know I made something you love completely,” Aziraphale explained. “It's not as fun, if it's just me.”

Crowley smiled softly. “I think it is, but I'll believe you. Shall we go to the dressmakers in the New Year?”

“Poor things are slammed right now – we'd better,” Aziraphale agreed. “And I have a gown that needs letting out.” She laughed and touched her belly. “You all feed me too well.”

“We feed you enough, you mean,” Crowley said.

(Aziraphale had mentioned in passing that the Queen at Heaven's Court had restricted her eating, limiting the sweeties she loved. Limited the _food_ she loved.

After she had learned this, after Aziraphale had had to go back to work and Crowley had kissed her goodbye, she had gone outside and run as far and fast as she could, full of too much rage at the idea of Aziraphale hungry, Aziraphale made to feel less than, Aziraphale _not given enough._ It was enough to start a war over, and when she'd run her rage into the ground, she stopped by the kitchen and wheedled Cook into making some extra tarts to send up with Aziraphale's dinner.

She had done this by stalking into the kitchen, going over to Cook, looking her in the eye and informing her that at her last castle, the Queen had deliberately underfed Aziraphale to try to get her to lose weight.

“She likes your apple tarts,” she'd tossed off.

Cook's lips had gone thin, and she'd said a nasty word – and, for once, it wasn't meant for Crowley. “She'll get her tarts,” she promised, and Crowley had kissed her cheek and run off before she could get bored and cause trouble.)

Aziraphale laughed softly. “You feed me enough,” she agreed, and giggled when Crowley ducked down and kissed her belly. “You silly girl.”

“Yes,” Crowley said, and lay down with her head in Aziraphale's lap, since it was right there, and that was _her_ settled for the night.

That had been the last chance she'd had to spend the night, the two of them tucked up in Aziraphale's little bed, snuggled together under the sparkling winter sky, stargazing and kissing until they fell asleep. It had been a chilly winter night, but they kept each other snug and warm, their bodies tenderly braided together.

After that it had simply been an endless stream of relatives and guests, Crowley playing guide or companion or having to be present at some traditional thing or other. Aziraphale worked late into the night, or had her own traditions to be present for – which somehow never overlapped with Crowley's, although once or twice they could steal a few minutes as one left the great Hall and the other went in. So Crowley did her family duty, was charming and irritating by turns, and fretted a little – that the weather was so damp, was Aziraphale getting enough fresh air? Was _she_ getting enough fresh air for that matter? Probably no on both counts.

The days whirled by like the occasional snow squalls that now came upon the kingdom, until a day that was cool and dry and overcast, and Aziraphale was out working the horses with Chae. Apparently it wasn't enough to just be able to stay on the stupid beasts, but there were finer points of technique she wanted to learn and practice, and so was spending the morning in a fine big pasture not far from the castle. They would have lunch together, and snatch a few hours in the afternoon. Crowley's belly got warm at that thought; they would talk and read together, of course, but perhaps they could do more. She wanted to explore Aziraphale's body, to kiss her in new places, and a lovely few hours in bed would be just the thing in the busy holiday season.

Until then, she was here in a distant store-room, going through Auntie's supply of yarns and threads and things. Aziraphale's little bedroom needed a rug, and Crowley was ready to warp a new project, and this would be just the thing. She had plenty of fine silks and cottons and such in her own stash, but this would need to be a bit more sturdy, and so she'd gained permission to raid for yarns that were thick and warm, soft enough for bare feet but sturdy enough to stand up to wear, to her maestra getting up every morning, no longer onto a cold floor.

She was practically _in_ an old wardrobe that had been pressed into use as a storage container, when Wat the dog-boy found her, skidding into the room at speed.

“ _There_ you are,” he gasped. “I've been looking bloody everywhere for you, Princess.”

Crowley groaned. “No, no, I'm to have today off, Auntie _said_.”

He shook his head, eyes big. “No, it's not that. It's Aziraphale.”

Her stomach turned to ice, and there was a roaring sound in her ears.

“Her horse threw her,” Wat panted out. “Dunno what happened. They carried her into the castle, she was all bloody, Crowley. Chae saw me and told me to come get you.”

Crowley was frozen in place. Nothing would move her again. Aziraphale was hurt, seriously _hurt_ , and Crowley couldn't move an inch. “Where is she?” she asked numbly.

Wat shook his head. “Dunno. I saw them, um, pick her up, and then found you.”

Crowley nodded and carefully closed up the wardrobe, her hands shaking. “Thank you, Wat. You may go now.”

“Right, Princess.” Wat hesitated, but ran when he saw her face. She must look horrifying, Crowley realised. Well, she felt pretty horrifying. Aziraphale was lying somewhere, unconscious and bloodied, for God knows how long, and _Crowley wasn't with her_.

This gave speed to her feet, as she raced out of the storeroom, barely remembering to lock the door behind her, all thought of rugs and weaving and everything gone except _find Aziraphale_.

“Where are you?” she whispered to the castle, as she took a wrong turn and had to double back. “Wherever you are, I'll come to you, just _where are you_?”

She made two more wrong turns, but blundered her way, eventually, to the Infirmary where she showed up panting and probably red-faced. She might have been crying, it wasn't clear, and anyway her dark glasses would hid most of it.

A young nurse looked up as she stumbled in. “She's in her rooms,” she said quickly. “She'll be all right Crowley, it's not serious.”

Crowley nodded, turned tail, and raced back across the castle. Only one wrong turn this time, she was shaking so badly and her head so mixed up, but soon, soon, familiar halls and familiar door and not even a knock, but it wouldn't exactly be locked, and she threw open the door to the Library and ran in.

Aziraphale was sat in her chair by the fire wearing her warmest dressing-gown. One foot was propped up on an ottoman, her ankle tightly bandaged, bruises already visible along her leg. She had a heavy bandage around her head, a parody of her maestra's fillet, and a bag of oiled silk that Crowley recognized from the infirmary was resting on one shoulder – icing it, likely. One of her cheekbones had a deep bruise on it, but she smiled, and held out her hand. “Oh, Crowley, love.”

She was awake. She was sitting up. She would be fine. She would be fine.

Crowley made a raw, ugly noise, and ran across the room, throwing herself down and burying her face in Aziraphale's lap, arms creeping around her hips, not really able to get close enough, but not wanting to hurt either, her beloved brilliant angel.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aziraphale breathed, one hand stroking her back, heavy and easy. Starting at her neck, then as far as she could reach easily, comforting Crowley.

Crowley moved her face long enough to take off her glasses, fumbling to put them aside until Aziraphale took them from her and set them on a little end-table, and went back to caressing her shoulders while Crowley sobbed in Aziraphale's lap, terrified and grateful and sad and happy all at once.

She pressed her face to the soft fabric, warm from the fire and Aziraphale's body, and let herself be comforted. She'd take care of Aziraphale in a moment, see to her every whim and cuddle and coddle her until she was all better, but for this moment, she needed to be terrified and thankful and loved.


	12. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale take care of each other, while Aziraphale settles into a few days of convalescence. She also has a bath, and it's frankly not the erotic experience she would have hoped it would be, but topless Crowley *is* offered as a reward at one point. So, could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: there is a short discussion about the injuries Aziraphale got during the war, and her bittersweet memories of her parents. Nothing terribly intense about either, and Crowley is right there to offer comfort, but it is a tiny meditation on the horrors of war.

Aziraphale fretted – she wanted to pull Crowley properly into her arms, to give her a real hug and kiss her and promise her that she was just fine, _really_ she was fine! But also, that seemed...painful. And Crowley's tears were slowing, she wasn't shaking any longer, thank God. Her poor darling, her frightened girl, what had they _told_ her?

Finally Crowley looked up, her face a mess, red and tear-stained, and beautiful.

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale said, and fuck any pain, she reached for Crowley and somehow they figured out how to hug, to hold one another, the ice on her shoulder going tumbling somewhere. She'd sort that out in a moment, until then oh, she _hurt_ , and her darling was here whispering soft endearments to her, stroking her hair, turning the tables to comfort her.

“There,” Crowley said, and sniffed hard, when they finally parted and Aziraphale relaxed back against her chair with a grateful sigh. “Oh, love.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I'll be fine. I promise. I'm one big bruise, but I only sprained my ankle and cut my head a bit.”

“And got knocked out, it sounds like,” Crowley said gently, and Aziraphale made a face, then winced when she moved her bruised cheek.

“That too. Funny, I don't remember that bit.”

Crowley laughed weakly – fair, it was a pretty bad joke. She retrieved the ice and held it to Aziraphale's shoulder again, and kissed her, very softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Aziraphale reminded her. “I'm sorry you were scared.”

Crowley made an ugly noise. “Fuck me. You were _hurt_. What happened, love?”

“I don't remember,” Aziraphale admitted. “I was working Aster, she was doing brilliantly. I expect something startled her, but the next thing I remember was coming to while being carried into the castle. The doctor told me I'd been thrown, and hit my head when I landed.” She winced, and touched the bandage. “Got a few stitches, but the scar won't be too bad, it's just at my hairline.”

Crowley nodded, but didn't say anything. She knelt by Aziraphale again, and rested her head in her lap for a moment, smiling when Aziraphale caressed her cheek. “I need to go clean myself up, I look a fright and I'm getting makeup all over you,” she finally said. “Do you need anything? _Want_ anything?”

“No, love. They gave me a tea to help with the pain. Can you still stay with me for the afternoon, though?” Aziraphale didn't want to ask for too much; she wasn't worth much right now. But her stupid voice betrayed her, sad and longing. “I would like...I want you here, with me. I'm sorry I can't read to you, though, we're about even on that right now. I get a terrible headache if I so much as look at a book.” And never mind that if this was how much she hurt _with_ the tea, she was going to be a mess when it wore off. Well, Crowley often insisted on making tea for the two of them, so that would help with that too.

Crowley made one of her noises that was just consonants. Aziraphale was learning to identify them – this one was indignant and protective. She missed the one that just meant Crowley was too horny to make words.

“I am not _leaving your side_ until you order me to,” Crowley announced, sitting up. “Even then I'll just hide in the stacks. Of course I'll stay, love, I don't want to be anywhere else in the world.” She lifted Aziraphale's hand and kissed the back of it. It actually didn't hurt, which made the flood of warm feeling through her body all the nicer. “Don't even think about reading. I'll tell you stories, I'm good at that. Aziraphale.” She made a noise like a choked sob. “You don't have to do anything but sit there and be all right.”

“Oh, precious.” Aziraphale held her arms out and got another hug, gentle, Crowley keeping the ice in place this time, their cheeks pressed together. Crowley smelled like wool and cold stone and salt, and Aziraphale loved her with all her heart, her good and giving demoness who loved her better than she ever could deserve.

“Now then,” Crowley said and sniffed, and laughed. “Oh, you poor thing, I got kohl on your cheek.” She smiled and licked her thumb, and rubbed it off. It was such a – well, a _mumsy_ thing to do, Aziraphale laughed out loud.

“Do I meet your standards, now?” she teased.

“Exceed them, every moment of every day,” Crowley said. “I am a horror show. I'm going to clean my face up, and kiss you, and put on water for tea and kiss you again. It's getting on evening, so I'll fetch you a blanket and build the fire up, and kiss you _again_. What am I missing, that you need?”

Aziraphale giggled. “Nothing, you silly thing. But go wash your face, you've had a dreadful scare and you'll feel better.”

Crowley rolled her eyes. “ _I_ had a scare,” she muttered, but she also kissed Aziraphale on her brow, over the bandage, and took herself off to the bathroom.

Aziraphale smiled, and was surprised at herself. She hurt head to toe. Her ankle throbbed alarmingly still, and was ugly and swollen. Her head ached, and she could feel great hideous bruises coming up. But she was so loved, and her Crowley was here to ease the next few hours. They would be busy up until Christmas, but they could have these few hours to love one another, and distract from the pain.

Crowley came back and did as she said, genuinely looking calmer and less like a terrified animal about to bolt. She had washed her face bare, and found a warm blanket she draped over Aziraphale's lap now, fussing over her injured foot.

“Time to move the ice,” Aziraphale agreed, and the oiled silk bag was moved to drape over her ankle. She couldn't stop a sigh – it did feel good, and her shoulder was numb now. It hadn't been badly injured, but it was clear what side she'd landed on.

“I'll run and get more ice in a bit,” Crowley said, after she'd delivered the promised kiss and built up the fire. It was time for another kiss just now, and then she'd fill the kettle.

“Oh, I'm sure I won't need – yes, Crowley,” Aziraphale said at the glare she got. Well, it was winter, so ice wasn't so precious. She wasn't costing much.

Kettle on the fire, Crowley settled at Aziraphale's feet again, head in her lap and hugging her legs. “I love you,” she said softly. “Everything in this castle is at your disposal, Aziraphale. You deserve every comfort we can manage for you.”

“You _are_ silly,” Aziraphale said warmly, even as she caressed Crowley's face. “I'm not even that badly hurt.”

“Thank God,” Crowley breathed, and hugged her legs again – gentle, always so gentle.

There was a knock on the door then, and Crowley looked up.

Aziraphale stifled a sigh – she could work right now, with help, but truly didn't want to. “Come in,” she called, and grinned in relief – Chae!

“Maestra!” He strode across the room, grinning back at her. “Came to see how you were doing. You look miles better.”

“Well, I'd bloody well hope so.” She laughed and held out a hand, Chae enfolding it in both of his. “I'm so sorry. Is Aster all right?”

“Is the! Fucking horse!” Crowley, still in her lap, was squawking in indignation.

“Hush, baby, the horsey people are talking,” Aziraphale teased her, and stroked her hair with her free hand.

“Fuck off,” Crowley muttered, and hid her face in Aziraphale's lap, clearly ducking out of the conversation.

And – oh. She didn't have makeup on...but no, Chae had known her before she was fully _her_. He knew what she looked like without the cosmetics that feminized her beautiful face. Still, Aziraphale cuddled around her, just a little bit, protectively. Crowley had a right to choose who saw her this way.

“Aster is fine,” Chae said. “I promise. How are _you_ , though?”

Aziraphale shrugged, and regretted it. “Sprained ankle. I suppose you figured out I cut my head. Bruises. Could've been worse.”

“Considerably,” Chae agreed. “I'm here to carry a message too – both of you are off-duty until Christmas. The castle physician was pretty clear, Maestra, you're not to do anything but rest as much as possible, and keep off of your feet.” He smiled. “And you'll need Crowley to help you.”

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale said, because she was not dumb. “Thank you, Chae.” She tickled the back of Crowley's neck. “Going to run this one off her feet with my endless demands.”

She and Chae smiled at each other silently, since Crowley couldn't see, and she mouthed 'thank you' to him, drawing a little closer around her love. She and Crowley were always better together.

“I should leave you to rest,” Chae said gently. “It's good to see you up and about, Aziraphale. Let me know if there's anything I can do, please?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I'm fine, truly. Thank you. And I _am_ sorry – that you had to see that.”

“You're not the first, you won't be the last.” Chae leaned over and squeezed Crowley's shoulder. “You hollered less than this one.”

“I'm hurt less than she was,” Aziraphale said swiftly. _No one_ , not even her oldest friend, teased Crowley about breaking her arm when she was thrown. It had been frightening and painful, and Crowley'd had a right to make as much noise as she wanted.

Chae bowed his head, and squeezed Crowley's shoulder again. “I'll have your meals sent up to the Library, both of you.”

“Thanks,” Crowley finally said, and got up, the kettle beginning to sing. She pulled it off the fire quickly and filled the teapot, then went to walk Chae out.

Aziraphale strained to listen – she wouldn't have either of them upset at the other – but all she could make out was Crowley quietly asking Chae to make sure her meals were generous, that she'd burn a lot of energy just healing. That there were plenty of sweeties as treats, and she blushed a little at her own greediness. They passed out of earshot, but she reckoned it was just Crowley over-worrying as per usual.

Aziraphale heard the door close softly, and smiled at the click of the lock. That was them sorted for the day – for _several_ days! Oh, what a treat to have her sweet girl in the run-up to Christmas. Of course she didn't need much, but Crowley would appreciate the time off.

Crowley came back to where Aziraphale was camped out and poured their tea, doctoring it with rich cream and plenty of sugar for both of them. They needed it, Aziraphale reckoned, and was quietly pleased when Crowley took her usual chair. Snuggles were nice, but her girl was going to get a sore bum, lying on the floor.

“Oh, that's wonderful,” she sighed, drinking deep. It as hot and good and strong enough for once, and chased away the aches for a moment.

Crowley offered a shy smile. “Good. Do you want a biscuit or anything?”

Aziraphale shook her head, and gave a little wriggle to get more comfortable. “I'm fine, and supper will be up soon.” Her smile grew. “And we have all the time in the world. For a few days at least.”

“Until Christmas. And then everything goes quiet – no one spends the New Year here, or at least significantly fewer do. Auntie and Uncle even take a little break, you won't have to work or anything then.”

Aziraphale laughed. “I'll be fine in a few days, I promise!” She wiggled her toes and sighed. “Did you notice which ankle I sprained?”

Crowley looked at her closely, and then groaned. “Pray for no rain for a bit?”

“You'd think I could have _one_ good leg,” Aziraphale said mournfully, hoping to make Crowley laugh. It worked, a bit at least. She'd take it.

They were quiet, then, the crackle of the fire filling the room. It was soft and warm, and Aziraphale didn't drowse, exactly, but it felt good to just rest and be still, and move the oiled-silk bag when all the ice melted.

“Let me refresh that,” Crowley said – and came into range for Aziraphale to take her hands and kiss them.

“Are you sure you don't mind? Only it does help.” She looked at her swollen ankle ruefully. That was going to be a bear to deal with for a few days.

“I'm really quite sure I don't mind,” Crowley assured her, kneeling again to embrace her. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Aziraphale murmured, kissing her hair. “Hurry back. Supper'll be here soon, and you need to eat too, darling.”

“I won't be long,” Crowley promised, and kissed her again, and slipped out of the room, leaving Aziraphale to the soft sounds of the fire, and the fragrance of old books. The medicinal tea still left her feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges; she'd have to see if Crowley minded brewing her a cup before bedtime. She smiled and daydreamed a little before the fire, thinking of sleeping in, if Min would bring her breakfast to the little bedroom, and then perhaps Crowley could come by for a little bit, once she'd had time to rest and do as she liked. Aziraphale may have joked to Chae, but she truly didn't want to run Crowley off her feet, or put too much on her. It wasn't fair, for what amounted to a few stitches, a limp on her _other_ side, and some bruises.

Crowley returned with fresh ice, including a clever little bucket that she said would keep another load of ice cold, so that Aziraphale would have enough to see her through the night. “I got another bag from the infirmary too,” she reported. “If you want to ice your shoulder? And they gave me some teas, and some salves for when you're a little less tender. Oh, and something to put in your bath.”

Aziraphale actually moaned at the thought of a bath. “Oh, that sounds heavenly. I smell like horse, and I'm all dried-sweat-gross.”

Crowley laughed, quickly fixing up the waterproof pouches, settling one on Aziraphale's foot and the other on her shoulder. “We can sort something out after supper. Tiffany said you have you keep your ankle elevated and shouldn't get the bandage wet, nor the one on your head, but we can work around that.”

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale sighed and smiled. “Thank you. Truly. I know you don't mind, but I appreciate that you're here, all right?”

“I only mind that you're uncomfortable,” Crowley said, and kissed her brow. “Poor girl. Try to relax and I'll tell you a story.”

“Oooh!”

Crowley laughed and settled at her feet, head pillowed on her lap again, one arm curled up and across her legs, taking one of her hands. “So, this is the story of how Terra was founded. It was long ago, when the world was new, and there was a dragon, and she had an egg...”

Crowley _was_ good at storytelling, infusing the child's tale with excitement and joy. Aziraphale very much enjoyed listening – and enjoyed more when supper arrived just as the tale ended; suddenly she was _ravenous._

Crowley insisted on bringing her a plate, and checked her ice packs again, moving the one from her shoulder before her skin could get too cold, and adding it to her ankle. Dinner was sturdy and comforting, and Aziraphale enjoyed the feeling of eating her fill, fulfilled and cared-for, and she laughed at the little cake they could share for afters. Someone had drawn a bandaged foot and a sad face with icing, and it was far more touching than it had any right to be. People she'd barely met cared about her – or at least cared about what Chae had asked for, which was just as good in her mind.

The cake was delicious. Even better when she kissed a bit of icing off of Crowley's mouth.

When everything was cleared away, Crowley set about helping Aziraphale into the little room where she could bathe.

“Right, up you go – lean on me for now, and I'll hunt you up a stick or something tomorrow,” Crowley advised, getting her arm around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale's arm in turn around her shoulders.

“Oof, just a moment.” She stood carefully, weight off of her bad foot, and waited for the moment of dizziness to pass. Standing...wasn't as bad as she'd feared. “All right,” she sighed. “Remind me this'll be worth it.”

“It bloody well better be,” Crowley said, as she took her first cautious step. “There you are – no, I can take your weight, Maestra, lean on me more.” They had to move slow at first, but they found a rhythm and made their way to Aziraphale's bathroom.

“I'm being nursed by a princess of the realm,” Aziraphale said, as Crowley got her seated on a bench for the moment. “Look at your farm girl now, Mama.”

Crowley smiled softly at her, starting the hot water flowing. “If there's a heaven, your Mama better be so proud of you she's annoying the living shit out of the other angels, bragging about her amazing daughter.”

Aziraphale giggled at that thought. She missed her parents, but it was a mourning that had grown into a soft glow, a bittersweet longing where the memories of love and care came as easily as memories of losing them. “I don't know. I hope so. That she's somewhere happy, I mean.”

“Me too,” Crowley said, and tested the hot water. The tub, blessedly, was not constructed along the same miniature lines as Aziraphale's bed had been. She added one of the fragrant packets Tiffany had given her, and sighed at the rich, botanical smell in the air. “Oh, angel.”

“It's wonderful.” Aziraphale tilted her head back and breathed in the steam. “Crowley, I feel so _nice_.”

“As well you ought,” Crowley said, adjusting the water so it would be hot but not scalding. “Right, you. Off with your clothes, dear.”

“For the record, this is _not_ how I wanted you to see me naked for the first time,” Aziraphale said, undoing her robe. She could stand balanced on one foot easily enough, and only needed a bit of help from Crowley to take off her shift – her dress, muddy and caked in dirt and blood, was off being cleaned.

“Fair,” Crowley conceded, but also kissed her cheek. Aziraphale wished it didn't help, but it did.

She helped Aziraphale to sit again, and winced once she'd got a good look. “Oh, love.”

Aziraphale looked down at herself and made a face. Livid bruises were coming up all over her body, especially bad on her right side, which had clearly taken the brunt, including her ankle. “Oh, gosh. I really...goodness.” She swallowed hard. “Well.”

“Yeah.” Crowley came over and Aziraphale leaned against her, head on her belly, wool soft against her cheek. “Hey. I love you, beautiful.”

“Love you too. Beautiful.” Aziraphale hugged her. “Hah. You didn't even _notice_ the scar.” She shifted her weight carefully, and rose again; it was easier to see this way.

Crowley gave a low whistle. Aziraphale knew pretty well what she was seeing – a thick fold in her side and her belly, the flesh there hanging oddly, here too tight and there almost baggy. The scar itself was hidden in the folds of her stomach, but appeared as it gashed across the front of her pelvis, and then down and around her hip where it gouged deep again, ugly and red.

“It's okay,” Aziraphale said. “It's not very nice.”

“No,” Crowley admitted. “It's not. Someone _did_ that to you. To a little girl.” She folded Aziraphale into her arms, gentle as a bird. “I am having trouble imagining a human being who could do that to anyone.”

“I know, love,” Aziraphale murmured. “It's an awful thing. But I lived. I survived. I don't know what happened to that man, but I know _I'm_ here still.” She could still see his face, but thought that was a thing that only she should ever know, a tiny bit of knowledge that would die with her, the kind of man who would do this to a girl.

“I know,” Crowley said, her voice tight. “I...fuck. Aziraphale.” She laughed. “I don't know what to say. You're beautiful and brave and strong doesn't...it's not enough.”

“It is, actually.” Aziraphale smiled, and kissed her. “I believe you, when you tell me that.”

“I'll tell you lots, then,” Crowley said, her voice still strained and about to cry. “I'll tell you every day, I'll – how long were you at Heaven's Court?”

“Huh? Uh. Eight years?”

“I will tell you for eight years, then eight more, then eight more, until all you know is that you're wonderful,” Crowley said steadily.

Aziraphale smiled, and nestled her face in Crowley's neck. “And I'll tell you the same. You left your parents at sixteen, right?”

“Yeah...”

“And it's been about twenty years?”

“Yes?” Crowley sounded confused.

“Hm. Not a bad start.” Aziraphale cuddled close. “Sixteen years of me telling you what a brave and good woman you are. That'll be a _good_ start.”

Crowley laughed, and turned the water off. “You're ridiculous.”

“Am not. Not about this. You _are_.” She smiled. “Help me into the bath?”

It took some planning and manoeuvring and Aziraphale lowering herself carefully, her bad foot propped up on the side of the tub, but soon she was submerged in the fragrant water, moaning in such a way that she remembered how she had _wanted_ to spend the evening.

“Oh, fuck,” she said. “I wanted to show you my tits. I mean, not like this.”

When Crowley had stopped laughing and could get up off the floor, Aziraphale made sure to flick some water at her. “I mean it!”

“I believe you!” Crowley insisted, and plucked a flannel from a little rack. “Now. Let me wash your face, and you can see _my_ tits, if you're very good.”

Aziraphale laughed, but she also held _very_ still while Crowley carefully wiped her face around the bandage, leaving her feeling clean and sweet and good.

“All right,” she said, and took off her dress, making quick work of the buttons on her tight bodice and wriggling out of it. Instead of Aziraphale's loose layers, she wore a corset over a camisole and a petticoat.

Aziraphale watched with interest as Crowley carefully undid her corset in the front, preserving the careful lacing, and pulled off her pretty cotton top.

“Well, now we're almost even,” she said, going a little pink and not just from the warm room.

Her shoulders were bony and broad, her chest slim. Without the corset, she didn't have a defined waist, except what remained from her lacing. Her breasts were nearly flat, and her nipples were small and brown. Aziraphale's mouth literally watered to taste them, to suckle them and kiss her Crowley's breasts, to squeeze her waist and bite her collarbone, and kiss the soft, smooth skin over her breastbone.

She swallowed hard, and again. “Fuck me,” she croaked. “Literally. I mean, not right now, but. You know. Sometime.”

Crowley laughed, one hand to her face. “Aziraphale!”

“I mean it,” she said, desperate to be believed. “Your body is so beautiful, Crowley, I want to taste every square inch of it. I want to make love to it. To you.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “Yes, all of that. Now lie there and soak like a good girl, all right?”

“All right,” Aziraphale said, smiling fondly at her, memorizing the look of Crowley in just her petticoat and stocking and slippers, how slim and cute and sweet and _edible_ she was. Aziraphale was getting the feeling she was the more experienced of the two of them, and couldn't _wait_ to make Crowley howl. To learn the things that made her glory.

For now, though, she just closed her eyes and tilted her head, and relaxed into the bath that was easing her hurts, just enough so that she thought she might sleep that night.


	13. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get ready for bed, and talk a little, making plans for the future.
> 
> (SEXY PLANS.)

Aziraphale had stayed in the bath until the water started to grow cool, her body easing, the lines of pain on her face smoothing, and Crowley internally sighed in relief. Just because her injuries weren't so bad – well, they still _hurt_.

She put her top back on and helped Aziraphale out, careful of her slippery body, and careful not think about all the fun she could be having with said body. What did Aziraphale's left nipple taste like? What did it feel like to kiss the dimpled skin of her right thigh? Or the curve of her lower back? Crowley didn't know the answer to _any_ of these questions, and she didn't like that one bit.

(What did it taste like, to put her face between Aziraphale's legs, that was a question she didn't dare to even think, otherwise she'd quickly be utterly useless.)

Instead, though, she clucked over bruises coming in blue and swollen, and her poor foot, and her poor _her_ , helping to pat her dry and get into a nightgown. It was only a little ways to her bedroom, which was probably good because Aziraphale had experimentally put her weight on her sprained ankle, made an ugly noise, and simply hopped the distance, using Crowley as a crutch.

“Poor love,” Crowley murmured, helping her into bed, slipping a thick bolster under her foot, and otherwise trying to get her as comfortable as possible.

“Tell me about it,” Aziraphale said, eyes closing for a moment. “I'm sorry. I should feel bad for taking your whole night but I just want you here with me.”

“You absolutely should not feel bad,” Crowley reminded her, ghosting fingertips over her cheek – that bruise was coming up ugly and painful. “Let me make you some of that tea, and you rest and let the bath do its magic.” A little kiss to her brow. “If you start to feel better, I'll brush your hair out and re-braid it, nice and neat and tidy for you.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I didn't hurt my hands, Crowley.”

“No, but you're pretty sore all over. And you know I love to play with your hair.” Crowley found one of her hands and squeezed it softly. “It's okay, Aziraphale. Everything's okay now. I'm here to help you, my poor maestra.”

Aziraphale sighed softly, and smiled, and relaxed into her little cloud-like bed. “All right. I'm too tired to argue.”

“Good girl,” Crowley said, and tapped her nose, and went to sort things out so Aziraphale could get some medicine into her. She also needed to figure out the bedding situation – there was no way she could share Aziraphale's bed without hurting her, and like fuck was she going back to her own room. She wasn't going to sleep out of _reach_ , let alone about a mile down the corridor.

Tea was made and delivered, and Aziraphale had to sit up anyway to drink it, so Crowley took the chance to release her hair from its bedraggled braid and comb it out smooth, careful around the bandage still around Aziraphale's head. She'd tackle that when the bandage came off, but for the moment just combed around it, gentle strokes to help her hair dry. Her curls fluffed if you looked at them, which drove Aziraphale around the bend and wholly and completely charmed Crowley. She loved Aziraphale's hair, and this was quite the treat.

It dried quickly out of the braid, and she plaited it for a change, and because Aziraphale looked cute as pie with her hair in two braids tucked over her shoulders.

“There you are, love,” she said, draping the neat braids to rest on her chest, and scooting up so Aziraphale could lean back against her, snug in Crowley's arms.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale snuggled closer, and finished her tea. Like the bath, it had a green, botanical smell to it, something fresh and soothing. Something that calmed Crowley's heart just from smelling it.

“I love you,” Crowley murmured, kissing under her ear to make her giggle. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too. You're a dream come true.” Aziraphale sighed happily. “Especially just now. Thank you. I know you don't mind, but thank you.”

“Always.” Crowley rested her arms on Aziraphale's belly, careful of tender spots, but loving her soft squish. “D'you feel better, sweetheart?”

“Mmmhmm. That bath was heaven. And the tea helps.” She sighed and rested her head against Crowley's, the sweetest weight imaginable in her arms. “Will you come over tomorrow, after breakfast?”

“Aziraphale, I'm spending tonight here,” Crowley said firmly. “Not letting you out of earshot, angel.”

“Crowley! Well, I suppose the sofa isn't so bad...”

Crowley snorted. “Too far away. I'll make up something on the floor right here, be within arm's reach all night.”

Aziraphale actually yelped in protest. “ _Crowley_! I am not letting you sleep on the _floor_!”

“Why not?” Crowley pointed out sensibly. “It's a lovely floor.”

“It's a floor! You're--”

If Aziraphale went off about a princess sleeping on the floor, Crowley was going to drop her on her head. It was so _stupid_ , just because she'd come out of the right vagina. It wasn't like she'd particularly lived up to expectations of noble birth anyway.

“You're _you_ ,” she said, finally. “You're my love, and you deserve something better.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” This was not an argument she'd prepared, fuck. Crowley kissed Aziraphale's unbruised cheek, long and hard, to buy herself time and because she loved her so much. “Shhh. I want this. I want to be close. I want to be able to wake up in the night and look at you and see you asleep and well. I'll get the mattress from that little couch in the reading room and some of your five hundred pillows and seventy-four quilts, and I'll be snug as can be. I promise.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a long minute. “All right,” she finally said. “I won't pretend that it isn't...comforting. To have you nearby.” Another pause, and in a soft, sad voice. “It helps. You help me be happy and cheerful and not feel the pain too much. You make me feel loved.”

“You are _so_ loved,” Crowley whispered, holding her a little tighter, pressing kisses to her check and neck. “You have no idea.” She'd sleep here until Christmas, at least. Her darling wasn't going to feel alone or frightened for _anything_.

Aziraphale finished her tea, and Crowley helped her lie down again, making sure she was tucked in, her leg supported, plenty of pillows and soft, fluffy duvets tucked around her, and more than enough kisses. “I'll be back soon,” she promised, and went to put the dirty mug out where Min could collect it easily, and gather things to make up her own little bed. She could sleep in her unders well enough, and run back early tomorrow to change in her own rooms.

“Oh, love, borrow a nightgown at least,” Aziraphale told her, once Crowley was nearly done setting up her little bed on the floor, snug in the space between Aziraphale's bed and the wall. “You'll freeze to death in that cotton stuff.”

Crowley laughed, but she wasn't going to turn down something warmer – and all the better to wear something of Aziraphale's. She got one down from a hidden drawer, following directions, and kissed her sweetheart on her forehead, and decided to be brave. The light was low, warm yellow lamps against the falling night. And it wasn't like Aziraphale couldn't guess at what she looked like naked.

She slipped off her camisole, and took a deep breath, and undid her petticoat, following it with the split pantaloons. And took another deep breath, and turned to face Aziraphale. “This is me,” she said quietly, standing naked, just a foot or two away from her dearest.

Aziraphale smiled, and held out her hand, and Crowley took it. She squeezed softly. “You're very beautiful. Thank you. I like seeing your body.”

Crowley just smiled shyly at her. “Um. Thanks. Sorry, just, it's cold --”

Aziraphale laughed and let go her hand. “Go get changed, love! I've got the memory to keep me warm,” she teased, and winked.

Crowley wriggled into the nightgown, warm and thick and too big for her, and instantly wondered how she could steal it forever. Well, she had a good excuse for the next week at least, and then Aziraphale would hardly miss the thing.

It was relatively early still, so she simply sat on her bed, leaning against Aziraphale's, and grinned up at her. “Hullo, you.”

“Hullo, beautiful.” Aziraphale grinned back, reaching out and of course Crowley entwined her hand with hers. “This is so cozy – like when I was at school, and we'd all cram into someone's room for a night.”

“And have your lesbian orgy?” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “That _hardly_ ever happened. Perhaps a few times a year.”

“I don't even care if you're lying to me, I could use the fantasy fuel,” Crowley sighed, gazing up at her. “You being loved to ecstasy, _yum_.”

Aziraphale giggled at that. “Well, it did feel pretty yum,” she conceded, and rubbed her thumb across Crowley's knuckles. “You've had lovers too, right?”

“I have,” Crowley said. “Not many, for obvious reasons. But a few.”

Aziraphale make a little _tch_ noise, but didn't argue. “What do you like, beautiful?”

“You. I like to be held, and kissed. Um.” Right, Aziraphale _knew_ all that. “I like to rub off – on a pillow or whatever, or, um, your leg.”

“I would love that, Crowley,” Aziraphale said gently. “Truly. Holding you while you rub off on me would be delicious, getting to caress you, squeeze you tight, all that.”

Crowley grinned. “Yeah. Uh. Sometimes I don't like my cock being touched, other times it's fine. Check in on that?”

“Always,” Aziraphale said firmly. “I promise you. I'm going to be very, very careful with you, love. I want you to only ever feel good around me.”

“So far so good.” Crowley smiled. “Oh, hey. When you said you wanted me to fuck you – I mean, I can do that? Quite literally?”

Aziraphale laughed. “Thank you, but no thank you. I don't like to be penetrated – and it's not about your cock, I mean, please don't use your fingers or a toy either.”

“Got it,” Crowley said. “And whew. We don't have to worry about me getting you up the duff then.”

A – no pun intended – pregnant pause.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Crowley said. “You didn't think _once_ about birth control?”

“Shut up,” Aziraphale said, laughter in her voice. “You have to be nice to me, I'm hurt.”

“You're also thick as a brick,” Crowley said, fully laughing out loud at her. “Oh my _God_. I love you more than my own life. But I also do not want to get you pregnant, so let's at least remember that's a _possibility_?”

Aziraphale giggled, long and hard. “Shut up! I'll remember! Be nice, I've never lain with anyone who could get me pregnant before!”

Crowley was laughing too, and _had_ to get up on her knees and give Aziraphale a flurry of kisses. “I will not be nice to you.”

“Oh, you won't?” Aziraphale's eyes danced, sweet and alive and cute as could be, even under the bandages and bruises.

“Nope. I'm not _nice_ ,” Crowley informed her, tucking the duvet a little more closely under her chin.

“Of course not,” Aziraphale agreed. “You'd never be nice to me, in particular. Specially not right now.”

“Exactly correct,” Crowley said, and kissed the tip of her nose. “And don't you forget it, Maestra.”

Aziraphale just smiled, snuggled in her cloud of pillows and blankets, smiling sweetly up at Crowley.

“So what do you like, then?” Crowley asked, settling more comfortably, her head and arm pillowed on Aziraphale's lap. Well, probably her lap. She was mostly a pile of blankets.

“Ooooh, so much,” Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, do you know the term 'pillow princess'?”

“I can guess,” Crowley said dryly. Some things about Aziraphale were becoming clear.

Aziraphale giggled. “I like to have my body worshipped. And to return it – I'll bathe you, and rub sweet oil into your skin, and touch every inch of you in love – every bit you're comfortable with, of course. I like oral sex that lasts a really long time, and I like to have my breasts played with. I'll always make sure you feel good, my love, but I _really_ like just lying here and letting you give me orgasms and kisses and caresses for _hours_.”

Crowley lay down, screeched out loud, and kicked her feet in glee. Another advantage of a voluminous nightgown – just Aziraphale's _description_ of how she would demand adoration, of how Crowley could serve her and adore her and fulfil her every whim was making her start to get hard. It seemed tacky to show that too clearly when they couldn't do much about it.

Aziraphale giggled softly. “So I suppose that's a yes.”

“Yes, yes, yes, _yes_ ,” Crowley moaned. “Oh my _God_ yes. You're a dream, a doll, a perfect angel. I'm going to stick my face between your legs for a _whole day_.”

Aziraphale laughed harder. “Take some meal breaks at least!”

Crowley made a rude noise. “You take a meal break, I'm busy.”

“You're adorable,” Aziraphale said, because she probably hadn't grasped that Crowley was absolutely serious. Well, she'd learn.

“Yes,” Crowley said, willing the throbbing between her legs to go down. “I am. Love, I know you're not up for anything right now...”

“But when I'm better. Let's at least play, and learn, and see?” Aziraphale asked, and somehow Crowley found her eyes in the low light, and they smiled at each other.

“I'd like that very much,” Crowley said, and watched Aziraphale snuggle down a little more firmly. “Drift off, love. Your body's working so hard right now, sleep can only help. I'll be right here, I promise. Wake me if you need _anything_. Even a hug.”

Aziraphale giggled softly, and yawned. “Such a demon. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Crowley murmured, settling down herself. Maybe in a few nights Aziraphale would be able to walk the distance to Crowley's rooms, and they could sleep together again. Or they could snuggle on the sofa, or even, very carefully, in Aziraphale's bed. Just something so she could hold her girl and let her know everything was going to be okay.

She listened until Aziraphale's breathing had gone deep and even, and let herself drift off.


	14. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain means a bad day spent mostly in bed for Aziraphale, and mostly with her Crowley doing her best to make her comfortable. A visit from the doctor brings some good news, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story really starts to earn its rating this chapter!

The first thing Aziraphale was aware of was the smell of hot coffee and eggs and sausages. She smiled.

The second thing she was aware of was how warm and snug she was, and she smiled wider.

The third thing she was aware of was that her entire body hurt like bloody hell. Her ankle hurt, and her face and her head, and the bruises that were surely blossoming into something truly hideous. She stopped smiling.

“I have tea ready when you can face the world, love.”

Crowley. Oh, her _Crowley._ Aziraphale opened her eyes and looked up at her – and became aware of the rain pounding against the window.

“Oh fuck my _entire life_ ,” she moaned, and drew the covers up over her head. She truly was not sure she'd be able to get out of bed today. Fuckety fucking _hell_.

She felt her mattress sink, and Crowley's warmth against her. Why couldn't she just....not. Why couldn't she be _easy_ for Crowley?

She heard a soft chuckle, and relaxed. Crowley loved her. _Loved_. Her! Even like this. Maybe especially like this, wanting to comfort and cuddle and soothe. She tugged the quilt down and looked up at Crowley, pathetic and miserable.

“My everything hurts.”

Crowley's smile turned even more tender, and she leaned over and kissed Aziraphale. She must have gone back to her own rooms to change and take care of her facial hair and such. Good. “Oh, poor love. Here, let me help you.” And easy as anything she soon had Aziraphale sitting up against lovely soft pillows, her ankle propped up on a thick cushion and a bolster against her side, easing the pain in her hip. And a cup of tea that promised to at least blunt the edges.

Aziraphale drank deep, and sighed. Being awake actually helped a bit, and her ankle throbbed less like this. “I'm sorry, love. I don't think I can get out of bed today.”

“Well, it's a good thing you don't need to, then.” Crowley squeezed her knee. “Do you want breakfast? And I'll pour you some coffee once you've got your medicine down.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Breakfast would be lovely. Takes a lot to put me off my feed,” she teased, and Crowley laughed.

“Good girl.” A kiss to her brow, and Crowley went to assemble a plate. And as miserable as she felt, Aziraphale couldn't help but smile as she sipped her tea and settled back. She wouldn't always feel like this. The scar and the damage from it were with her for life, but her ankle would heal and her bruises fade and the scar on her head was easily hidden. This would be a bad memory soon.

Maybe even not a a _bad_ memory, with Crowley to sweeten it, Aziraphale thought, as she appeared with breakfast. The plate was absolutely groaning with sausage and eggs and biscuits and toast dripping with butter, and Aziraphale's stomach growled as soon as Crowley set the tray down in her lap.

“Oh, good grief,” she said, in between giggles, as she covered her face with one hand.

Crowley just laughed, and gave her shoulders a gentle hug. “There's more when you finish that.”

“More! Crowley, this is enough for the both of us!”

“You're healing. Eat.” Crowley tapped the tip of her nose, and Aziraphale dug in, mouth watering already. Everything was done to absolute perfection, and she ate until she had cleared the plate, and asked for another biscuit to nibble on while she finished her coffee. Crowley was _ecstatic_.

“You should have seen me when I was recovering from the war,” she said, when Crowley had returned with three biscuits dripping with butter and honey, one of which had a little sausage patty tucked away, and of course a fresh cup of coffee. “I was so out of it for a few weeks, I think Madame decided I'd be an easy little thing. Then I ate her out of house and home for the next three months.”

Crowley laughed, and sipped her coffee, and nibbled a little at one of the biscuits. “Good girl.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That's when I started to get plump, really. I mean, we had enough when I was growing up, please don't think my parents couldn't feed me! But it was hard after the war started, and then to have _more_ than enough...” She sighed happily. “It was so nice.”

“I'm so glad,” Crowley said softly. She fussed a little, adjusting one of the duvets over Aziraphale's legs. “You said you were abed for a long time?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I don't remember exactly – at least two months?”

“Love!”

She smiled, feeling warm inside and out. “I know. I had some fractures that needed to heal, in my leg and my pelvis, and you can see where all the muscle damage was. I have a little nerve damage too – spots where I can't feel anything, I mean.”  
Crowley nodded. “Angel, I know you said the physician at the guild helped you. Is there anyone that could help you _now_? We absolutely will do anything, if it would ease your pain. I am asking as your lover, but also as a Princess of Terra. We, royal we, will get you _anything_ , if you need it.”

Aziraphale's smile grew. “Oh, sweetheart. No, I don't think so. It's all so old and healed over now.” She hesitated a moment, but better Crowley know this now. “Some things might get harder as I get older – arthritis and such, you know. I might not always have as much mobility as I do now, love.”

“All right. We'll handle that if and when it comes.” Crowley leaned in and kissed her, soft and lingering. “Just like we're handling this.”

Aziraphale just smiled at her, and nibbled on the warm, flaky biscuit.

Crowley eventually helped her out of bed to take care of bodily necessities, and walking to the bathroom had been just as awful and hard as she'd feared, but they got through it, and soon had her in a fresh nightdress and tucked back into bed, lying still as the rainstorm continued. The tea took the edge off, and the big breakfast and warm company had helped a lot, but Aziraphale was soon restless and uncomfortable no matter how they tried to settle her.

Finally, she sighed, and closed her eyes. “Crowley?”

“Yes, Aziraphale?”

“Can you...I know it's a tight fit. But would you please lie down with me for a bit? I want to be held.”

“Oh, _angel_.” It wasn't fair, Crowley's voice was so tender and so kind, and Aziraphale was a cranky, demanding old lady who didn't deserve any of it. It hurt when Crowley got into bed, and it hurt to be gathered into her arms, but it would have hurt to just keep lying there, and this way Aziraphale could tuck her head onto Crowley's chest and wrap her arms around her beloved, and if she wept a few tears into the soft wool of her gown, no one would tell. She was so _safe_ here, Crowley's slim body fitting against hers, arms holding her tenderly. It felt so safe, and so good. The sound of rain on the window even sounded...safe. Homey. She was warm and well-fed and well-loved. She could stay in bed all day and rest. Being soft and easy helped a little, and the tiny kisses Crowley was dropping in her hair helped a lot.

She sighed softly, and rested her head on Crowley's bosom. “Thank you. That feels really good.”

“Good,” Crowley murmured, tugging the duvet up a little further. “You're going to be all right, Aziraphale. The fire's crackling away, and you're under about a thousand blankets. You'll have a scrummy lunch, and I'll tell you stories whenever you want. Tomorrow will be kinder – the doctor's coming to check on you then, and maybe he can help with a few things. And in a few days it'll be Christmas, and we'll figure out how to get you to the great feast, and you and I can watch the dancing until we're both falling asleep and half-drunk on Uncle's best wine.”

Aziraphale smiled, loving the rumble of Crowley's voice under her cheek. “I'm so lucky.”

“Really? So am I.” Crowley gave her a little squeeze, and Aziraphale smiled even wider, not caring that it hurt her bruised face. She was safe and loved, and that counted for more.

She drifted off, not quite asleep but not quite awake, cradled in Crowley's arms. It was a soft, fuzzy kind of day – waking up to eat lunch, and then lying back down, more tea mixing with the pain, making her dozy and out of it. She half-slept more, listening to the sound of Crowley moving about the Library, the comforting crackle of the fire. Crowley helped her to the bathroom again, practically carrying her, and Aziraphale fell asleep once more as soon as she was back in bed.

They had a quiet supper together, and it felt like the worst of the day was over. Crowley helped her change again, and they winced together, seeing her bruises coming up deep black and purple.

“I feel slightly better about being a lump all day,” Aziraphale said, examining a particularly vivid bruise, bigger than Crowley's hand, on her hip.

“Well, I'd hope so. Good grief.” Crowley laid her hand on the bruise gently. Then slid it up and grinned at her. “I'm touching your butt.”

“Oh, the flirtation,” Aziraphale dead-panned back, but she also laughed. “I love you.”

Crowley ducked her head down and kissed so lightly Aziraphale could barely feel it, lips skimming over the ugly bruise. “I love you too,” she murmured into her skin, then helped her get dressed again, and tucked under the covers.

Aziraphale settled back against her myriad cushions with a sigh. “I cannot _wait_ until that's foreplay.”

Crowley snickered, and started to re-make her little bed on the floor. Aziraphale considered protesting, but it was a losing proposition. And it _was_ really comforting to have Crowley right there. She'd put her foot down tomorrow night; better to stop this before Crowley felt obliged, grew sick of nursing her. But for right now...well. She'd had a bad day. Maybe this was justifiable.

“I can't wait either.” Crowley grinned, plumping up pillows, and threw herself down, the very picture of comfort. “Just want to kiss you all over, sweetheart.” She was sleeping top-to-tail with Aziraphale tonight, so they could both lie in bed and look at each other and talk.

“Same,” Aziraphale sighed, taking in Crowley's long figure, the way she lounged, the grace of her limbs. Someday she'd have those long legs wrapped around her...

“Darling, question,” she asked

“Mmm?”

“How do _you_ feel about penetration? I wouldn't mind fucking you, you know. Quite enjoy it, actually.” Aziraphale sighed, remembering happy memories of a smuggled-in dildo, and a _lot_ of practice. Get a group of precocious women together, give them access to research materials, and everyone got very creative, very quickly.

Maybe there _had_ been a higher-than-average number of orgies in her past. Aziraphale remembered how she'd made Rosalia scream her name, and she licked her lips.

And checked on Crowley, who was, rather pleasingly, making the 'too horny to function' noise again.

“Darling?” she asked, sugar-sweet. “You know what I'm asking, right?”

“Yes! Oh my God, _yes_!” Crowley rolled over, screamed into a pillow, and rolled back. “Yes,” she moaned. “I would enjoy being fucked by you. God in heaven.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” Aziraphale cooed. “Do you have a dildo, or should I look into getting one for us?”

Crowley whimpered. “I. Have. One,” she ground out.

“Lovely.” This was way too much fun. “And baby – I don't know how good I'll be at it, but I'd be happy to go down on you. I've never sucked cock before,” she mused. “I should very much like to suck yours, if you'd be interested.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley's eyes were squinched shut. “Aziraphale, I need you to shut up, or else give me the go-ahead to get myself off.”

“Oh my God, why didn't you say something? Get yourself off, you silly girl!” Aziraphale grinned – now this was how to pass the time! “That's it, off with the nightgown, let me see you. Oh, you _are_ delicious.

And she proceeded, in minute detail, to tell Crowley exactly what she wanted to do to her. Well, one or two things – it was a startlingly short amount of time before Crowley was writhing on the bed, moaning, and oh, what a special night it was, when Aziraphale got to see her beloved come for the very first time.

“Get in here,” she murmured, as soon as Crowley had wiped her hand off, and she held up the edge of her quilts to welcome a naked, happy, moaning princess into her arms. “You delicious thing. Crowley, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” She cuddled her close, kissed her cheeks and her forehead and her lips, soft, soft, Crowley had bitten her lip and there was a tiny cut there.

Crowley just breathed deeply, nearly panting, and pressed close in Aziraphale's arms.

“I have you,” Aziraphale murmured.

“You love me,” Crowley said, her voice cracking. “You don't even...you think I'm beautiful and sexy and desirable. You _do_.”

“Oh, love,” Aziraphale said helplessly. “Crowley, Crowley, I really do. Hush now, cry if you need to. You were really brave and really vulnerable, and I'm so proud of you. You know exactly who you are, and I love you for it.” She rocked Crowley as best she could, and cuddled her through her little weep. Poor, precious love. She had been _beautiful_. Sure her body had been different from Aziraphale's other lovers. It had been odd sometimes, to watch her. Curious. There would be some things to explore, and a lot to get used to. But she loved Crowley, and so therefore loved her body, and that was that.

They cuddled until Crowley was less weepy, and kissed, and made each other laugh.

“I don't know how yet, but I'll get my revenge,” Crowley promised, and Aziraphale smiled up at her, snug and sweet. She could barely move, hemmed in by pillows and bolsters and under heavy blankets. Her body still hurt, but that was okay. It was getting better. And she had Crowley to care for her, brew her one last cup of tea to help her sleep, and then stroke her cheek as Aziraphale drifted off in the quiet night, the rain having finally blown over.

The next day was better, beginning with kisses and breakfast in bed. The sky was clear and dry, and Aziraphale actually got dressed, with considerable help from Crowley. Which turned into 'help' at one point.

“Caressing me is not getting me clothed,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Gosh you're smart,” Crowley said, and grinned, and slid her hand until it was just above Aziraphale's knee. “You're feeling better, right?”

“Not enough to be horny,” Aziraphale said. “Clothes, please. The doctor will be here soon, and I'd like to be semi-decent.”

“Fine,” Crowley huffed, and helped her into a loose shift and gown, and re-braided her hair. With Crowley to lean on, Aziraphale could just about get to the sofa by the fire, and settle with a sigh of relief while Crowley fussed, putting her foot up and heating water for more tea.

The castle physician appeared not long after, a kind man about Aziraphale's own age. He didn't even blink at Crowley's presence, for which Aziraphale was grateful – how their relationship would be received was something she and Crowley would have to talk about. Later, at least. And he arrived with not just fresh bandages and supplies, but a pair of wooden crutches that gave her some hope. It wasn't fair to have to rely so heavily on Crowley just for moving around.

“How have you been, Maestra?” he asked politely, unwinding the bandage around her head.

“Yesterday was hard, with the rain,” she admitted. “But I've mostly been in bed since the accident. I'm sore, and my ankle is painful, but it gets a little better each day.”

“Always good to hear,” he said. “Looks like your head kept bleeding a bit – I'm going to soak the bandage off. You might feel a little pull and sting, but it won't last long.”

Aziraphale reached over and took Crowley's hand, not entirely sure who she was comforting – maybe both of them – and squeezed tight as he wetted the square of fabric over the wound, and gently pulled it free.

“Looks good here,” he reported, after examining her head just at the hairline. “No signs of infection, and it's closed up and scabbed over. Keep it dry, and I'll take the stitches out in another week or so, but you don't need to keep it bandaged.”

She and Crowley exchanged delighted grins. Progress!

“Have you felt sick, or dizzy at all?”

“No,” she said. “I'm tired, and reading is a bit hard still, but nothing like that.”

“Wonderful,” the doctor said, and she smiled shyly for him. He was so kind. “No lasting trauma from hitting your head. Just take it easy on your brain, eh? No riding until February for you.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “Well, if you say so.”

“Sorry, Maestra,” he said kindly. “But it could go rather badly for you, hitting your head again this soon, and we don't want to chance it. You can go for walks and such as soon as you feel able.”

She nodded – carefully – but was still disappointed to miss out on riding, and the St Stephen's Day hunt.

Next was her ankle, which wasn't nice at all. The doctor unwrapped the bandages, and she winced at the heavy bruising from her foot to her calf, and how badly everything was still swollen. Crowley moved closer, and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Oh, that does look nasty,” the doctor said. “Can you put weight on it at all?”

Aziraphale made a face. “Sort of. It really hurts, though.”

“All right,” he said gently. “I'm going to do a few things. I'm sorry, Maestra, this is probably going to hurt.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath. “I can handle hurt,” she said with a bravery she didn't feel at all. But Crowley was right there, and Aziraphale could be brave for _her_.

He started by moving her toes, and pressing on parts of her foot and calf, and that didn't hurt at all, really. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he moved her ankle, and she gasped and hid her face in Crowley's shoulder.

“Shh,” Crowley whispered. “Just a little longer. Just a tiny bit longer, my brave girl.”

He did work quickly, she'd give him that, and good – when he moved the joint in one particular way, she saw stars, and made an ugly noise into Crowley's dress, and then it was all right, it was done, he had put her foot down and put a bag of ice on it, and she could look up, hoping she hadn't acted too childishly.

“I'm so sorry,” he said kindly. “I wanted to make sure you hadn't broken anything, Maestra.”

“But she's going to be all right?” Crowley asked tensely.

“I promise,” the doctor assured them both. “It's a bad sprain, but you knew that. Nothing broken, or if it is, it's so minor the treatment would be the same. I'm going to splint it and bandage your foot for a few days, and then we can see about just a soft bandage.”

Aziraphale nodded, still catching her breath. “All right. Um. Thank you?”

He smiled at her. “You're welcome?” And he laughed, chuckled really, and Aziraphale wondered if truly _everyone_ in this castle was just incredibly kind. Was it something in the water? “I know you have some muscular issues with your other leg, Maestra,” he said kindly. “Is it strong enough for you to use crutches? I'd prefer if you could keep your weight off your foot entirely for a few days.”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said. “At least, I think so. On dry days, certainly.”

The doctor nodded. “We'll figure something else out if need be. But let me bandage this and get you set up, and then I'll leave you alone until after Christmas.”

Aziraphale smiled, and snuggled into Crowley's side, watching in interest as the doctor set curved, wool-padded strips of wood on either side of her ankle, and tightly bound her leg from the ball of her foot to her calf with neat white linen.

“Keep icing it as much as you can stand,” he advised. “That will help with the swelling. You saw what I did?” he asked Crowley, and she nodded, and Aziraphale was so proud. Her Crowley learned so fast. “You can take everything off for bathing, but put it back on as soon as you can. It's easier if someone else can do it for you.” He smiled and patted her leg. “You'll start to feel much better soon, I think. I've left more tea and salve and things. And truly, don't hesitate to send for me if you feel poorly, or something feels wrong.”

“We won't,” Crowley said firmly, and Aziraphale was about to die, except that his smile grew wider.

“I ought to rent you out,” he teased. “All my patients need a lioness like you. Right, up you go, Maestra.”

He got her settled on the crutches, talked her through the basics, and bid them both a good morning, no, unfortunately he couldn't stay for tea, there were hangovers aplenty that needed him.

“Oh, right,” Crowley said. “Parties. It's so _quiet_ here.”

Aziraphale looked over at her. “Do you want to go? I won't be put out – you deserve a night to yourself, love.”

Crowley made a face. “I cannot tell you how much I would rather be in the quiet here. Can you sprain your ankle right before Christmas _every_ year?”

Aziraphale laughed – good, they could tease about this. “I'll see what I can do. Can I trouble you to make me a cup of tea?”

“Angel, you know it's no trouble,” Crowley said softly. “C'mon. Put your foot back up and I'll ice it.”

“In a moment,” Aziraphale promised, smile growing. “I need to go take my first private pee in two days.”

Crowley's laughter echoed through the Library as she navigated the stacks, glad it was an open, airy space. They tended to be – it was wasn't unusual at all for those with physical disabilities to go into the Guild. Another happy memory: Elsie who was two years ahead of her, who couldn't feel anything below her waist after a bad accident. She and Aziraphale had spent a whole spring experimenting with _en plein air_ lovemaking, and it had been _magical._

Peeing in private was wonderful, but the crutches that had started out rather fun quickly left her arms aching. She regained the sofa with immense joy, propping her foot up on an ottoman and relaxing gratefully. A whirlwind of Crowley-motion later, and there were ice packs on her ankle, a cup of tea in her hand, and her own beloved demon-girl snuggled up beside her.

“You look so much better. Even with him trying to wrench your ankle apart,” Crowley said. She'd cuddled up to Aziraphale's good side, head resting on her shoulder and an arm gentle and warm across her belly. It felt...normal. The first normal thing in a few days. Good. Aziraphale had her arm around Crowley's shoulders, and gave her a little squeeze.

“I feel better. Yesterday was unlucky, I think, but it's been enough time that the bruises are easing at least.” She made a face at her foot, but that would heal too, given time.

“Good.” Crowley snuggled a little closer, and gave her a squeezy kind of hug. “I love you.”

“I love _you_ ,” Aziraphale teased, and kissed her forehead. “You're so good to me.”

“Pfft. I'm treating you the way you always should've been,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale rubbed her arm gently.

“You all right?” she asked softly. “I feel like I'm giving you more reasons to hate horses.”

“I have _plenty_ of reasons,” Crowley said. “I'm okay, love. It was so long ago.”

“Long-ago things hurt sometimes still,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Just making sure.”

Crowley giggled. “It was fine. I was young, it hurt like hell for a week and then it was just life. I healed up all right and have never ridden sidesaddle again.”

“And so you won't ever, it's an awful way to ride a horse,” Aziraphale teased. Her tea had cooled enough by then, and she drank deep – her ankle still throbbed, distantly, from the examination.

When she'd finished her tea, it was time for the really important stuff – namely, kissing Crowley until they shared the green taste of the tea. Oh, it felt good to _want_ , to desire again! She couldn't really get into the position she wanted, but this was good, her demon now kneeling at her side, Crowley's slim hands cool and comforting on her face, smoothing her hair, so gentle on her bruises. She'd caught sight of herself in the mirror, and half her face was black-and-blue, but Crowley kissed her like she was a beautiful princess too.

Her dress had a high collar that dove into a long slit, fastened by pretty clasps to her waist. She fumbled a little, but undid them one-handed, and guided Crowley's hand to the edge of the fabric, to the slit in the front of her shift. “If you want,” she whispered.

“Oh, I _want_ ,” Crowley groaned, pushing the fabric aside to curl a hand around her breast, her thumb brushing over Aziraphale's nipple as she kissed deep, and Aziraphale responded, moaning and hungry for Crowley's mouth.

She was beautiful, she was desirable, even covered in bruises and with one more bum leg than usual, Crowley _wanted_ her, and Aziraphale gloried in it, encouraging with touch and moan and gasp, that left her with her shift untied at the neck and shoved down out of the way, her breasts spilling out the top of her dress, Crowley's hands and mouth hard at work as she writhed and whimpered and whispered Crowley's name over and over.

“Can I?” she murmured, hiking her skirt up, her hand between her legs.

“Please,” Crowley said, and went back to kissing her way down Aziraphale's throat, lingering tenderly over the bruises on her shoulder, hands _very_ busy.

Aziraphale's hand was pretty busy itself, and she could not _believe_ this hadn't occurred to her before. A sweet little orgasm while she kissed Crowley was just the thing she needed, warmth flooding through her and the tension releasing as she settled into Crowley's arms and caught her breath.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed. “You're beautiful. You're so beautiful...”

Her clothes were a mess, and she essentially one giant bruise, and couldn't walk. But in that moment, she believed Crowley wholly, tucked herself as close as she could, and let Crowley rain kisses down on her face, holding her tight through the afterglow, feeling wanted and loved and desired.

They cuddled the rest of the morning away, after Crowley helped her set herself to rights again. The ice on her ankle was kept fresh and cold, with just little breaks to keep from hurting her skin, and they talked and giggled until lunch, not letting go of the other until they had to.

Aziraphale celebrated eating at a table by polishing her plate off, and they lingered a little over coffee.

“Plans for the afternoon?” she asked, smiling at her sweet girl.

“...You?” Crowley looked puzzled. “I mean, tell me to bugger off if I get annoying, but Aziraphale, truly, all I want to do is spend time with you. To help, yes, but just...to be with you.” She smiled shyly. “I'd be sticking to you even if you were perfectly well, you know.”

“Oh, darling.” Aziraphale reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You're not annoying, Crowley. I'm spoilt for time with you, I'm just sorry I'm a bit dull. Honestly, I just want a nap,” she confessed.

“Then a nap you'll have,” Crowley said. “You don't have to amuse me or anything like that.” She grinned. “Look, I need a bath. Can I use yours, to stay close while you rest?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. “Help yourself to anything in there, of course.” She smiled, and touched her hair. “How do you feel about helping me bathe again tonight? My hair needs washing. And frankly my foot is probably a bit gross too, it's been bandaged up since I got hurt.”

“Literally _always_ up for you in a bath,” Crowley sighed. “Right. Scrubdown for both of us, and cuddles and sleep and stories for you.”

“And a night in a real bed for _you_ ,” Aziraphale countered. “I can get around with the crutches.” She considered this. “Mostly. Well enough.”

Crowley snorted. “Well enough, but no, love. I want to stay close. I'm telling you, my doss on your floor is plenty comfortable.”

“Crowley! It's not fair to you --”

“Make me stop then,” Crowley said, and smiled. “Love. If I really thought you didn't want me there, I'd go. But you love our little sleepovers, and _so do I_. I'm just biding my time until you're strong enough to make it to my rooms, and we can share a bed for a night.”

Aziraphale softened right away at that. “Oh, that'll be...oh, Crowley, please. I do love to fall asleep in your arms.”

“Same.” Crowley got up to clear their things away, pausing to squeeze Aziraphale's shoulder – her unbruised one, of course. “Do you want more tea, darling?”

Aziraphale groaned. “I'm going to turn into a cup of tea. But yes. Please?”

Crowley dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Go get comfortable in bed, and I'll bring it to you. Then you can just drift off – I promise I'll sit there with you until you're asleep.”

Aziraphale just smiled at her, and did as she was told. The crutches were hard work, but got a little easier with practice, and she thought maybe, on Christmas night, she might be able to get to Crowley's. They'd both go to the huge feast the Castle threw, and it would be just as easy to go back to hers...

She drew back the covers and sat, just watching out the window for a little bit. It was a beautiful winter day, dry and bright (for the few hours the sun was up), and the sleeping land spread out under her view. Aziraphale knew she was a lucky one, to land here among all these kind people, her princess first among them. She could take time to heal, and they didn't seem to grudge her the cost of medicine or even the ice she was using up at a terrific rate. It was different here, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. The way things ought to be. She used to know how kind people behaved, everyone at the Librarian's Guild had been lovely. She'd get used to it again. Not take it for granted, never that, but get used to it.

With a smile, she neatly stowed her crutches, and crawled into bed, carefully propping her ankle up. The elevation felt good and the splint felt pretty good too, more supported, and she snuggled back against pillows until Crowley came with her tea.


	15. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have a series of conversations, and learn a lot about each others' pasts (and some about their presents). There's some crying, more hugging, and a lovely bath is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Crowley discusses some of her relatives dead-naming her and how she struggles sometimes with visitors recognizing her gender and new name. She's sad about it, and Aziraphale offers comfort and affection (and anger on her behalf).

“Oh, thank you.” Crowley handed over the warm mug, still basically barely able to hold it together that this sweet, sexy, awful, glorious creature was _her fucking lover_. And Aziraphale was just here! Eating and drinking! Being cute as fuck! Totally unaware that Crowley needed to go have about seven meltdowns because _she knew what Aziraphale's left nipple tasted like now_. It tasted _great_ for the record.

Crowley had friends, it wasn't like _everyone_ hated her, or thought she was made wrong. Aside from the people who were supposed to unconditionally love her, she usually didn't care too much if someone thought her eyes were gross or scary, or clocked the body she'd been born into, or just found her fucking irritating. Sometimes she cared, but it was easy to pretend she didn't, and then to pretend long enough she actually didn't.

Mostly she expected people not to like her, and a part of her heart consistently expected Aziraphale to meet someone else who was clever and cute and smart and read lots of books, and was basically who Aziraphale _actually_ deserved. But most of her heart was in awe that Aziraphale loved her. _Needed_ her, had honestly asked her to stay, wanted to make love to her. This was unprecedented, and Crowley was due at least three breakdowns alone over the fact that Aziraphale had taken to dropping casual little kisses on Crowley's shoulders, like she couldn't go too long without touching her.

She fully and honestly expected to not survive sex. Crowley wasn't sure if people could really turn into supernovas, but thought she might be the first.

So that was Crowley's state of mind when she settled by Aziraphale's little bed, full of warm feelings and complicated feelings, watching her sweetheart drink the tea that would blunt the pain she'd had far too much of in her life.

“That's my good girl,” she said with a smile, encouraging her to finish the cup. “We've got plenty, I won't have to run down to the infirmary for ages yet. Do you want some ice for your foot, love?”

Aziraphale smiled at her over the rim of the mug. “No, thank you, I'll be fine for a bit.” She giggled softly. “I'm so sorry – I hope I'm not costing you all too much.”

“What.” Crowley blinked a few times (and didn't even care that Aziraphale was looking into her weird eyes! Another meltdown!). She must have misheard. “Angel, I don't understand.”

“Medicine isn't free, Crowley,” Aziraphale said gently. “Nor is ice. Well, all right, it is this time of year,” she admitted. “But none of the other stuff is. I've got two baskets absolutely _groaning_ with teas and salves and bandages and things, and that's to say nothing of taking the doctor's time.”

Crowley covered her face with her hands, took a deep breath, and shocked _herself_ when she started to cry.

“Crowley! Love, what is it, what did I say, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!” Oh bugger, _bugger_ , Aziraphale was getting out of bed, sliding down to the floor, all while Crowley choked on tears and gathered her into her arms.

“No,” she managed. “No, you don't apologise. Not for _this_. Not to _anyone_.” She looked up, aware she was an unholy mess of tears running down her face. “You never, ever, _ever_ have to be sorry for needing care, Aziraphale. Do you hear me? Not ever, not for your whole life.” She cried harder. “I will kill whoever taught you to worry about that, to think you might be a burden. I will kill them.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale sounded puzzled, but mostly tender as she gathered Crowley into her arms, petting her hair and her back. “Don't be sad, love, please don't be sad. Don't cry. Shhh, shhh, I'm an old silly who shouldn't have said anything.”

Crowley shook her head. “No. I'm glad you told me so I could set you straight.” She sniffled, and coughed, and wiped her eyes. “I'm sorry. I just. You shocked me.” She laughed, but tears still fell. “Aziraphale, you're worth so much more than a few jars of salve, a bit of tea, and a few linen strips. That is _nothing_ compared to what you're worth.”

“Well I know _you_ love me you ridiculous demon, but --”

“No, no buts,” Crowley said. “We take care of our own here. It's the same for Wat, and for the King, and for me, and for you. Everyone is worth it.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said in a small voice. “Oh. I...see.”

Crowley smiled and wiped her tears away again. “You do?”

“I want you to know I'm only not crying because _one_ of us has to stay dry,” she said bravely, and this shocked Crowley into another round of laughter – and tears. She couldn't seem to stop weeping, even after Aziraphale cuddled her firmly and kissed her.

“Now I'm sorry,” she said. “Think everything that's happened...it's a lot.”

“I scared you terribly,” Aziraphale agreed, but Crowley shook her head.

“It's not that – not all that, I mean. That is, yes, you actually did, you terrible angel,” she said, managing a smile and scrubbing her fist on Aziraphale's head to make her giggle. “I think it's – everything. Being scared. The holidays are hard sometimes. Loving you. _You_ loving _me_. It's not bad, nothing about you is bad, just...a lot.”

Aziraphale nodded, and hugged her. “I'm sorry the holidays are hard, love. How can I help?”

Crowley smiled. “Get back into bed and get that foot up. Take a nap. Let me love you as hard as I can.”

“I will ask again later, and I expect a real answer,” Aziraphale told her sternly. “I get to take care of you, too.”

Her tears seemed to finally be easing, so Crowley nodded, and helped haul Aziraphale back into bed, tucking her in anew and kissing her brow, pleased to taste her skin instead of linen bandages. “I love you. And what are you not to worry about?”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Anything, according to _you_.”

“Close enough.” Crowley touched her cheek. “You're worth it, angel-girl. This and more.”

Aziraphale smiled, and closed her eyes, and snuggled up in the way she had, a happy little wiggle that she was warm and dry and surrounded by soft things. Crowley lingered until she drifted off, and then went to bathe, more grateful than usual for the option of hot water and a good soak.

Aziraphale had some nice, run-of-the-mill smelly bath things, and Crowley added some rose-scented salts, mentally promising Aziraphale she'd replace them soon.

The bath helped. It held her body, soothed tense muscles. It smelled good, fresh and sweet, and it was nice to be here, in Aziraphale's home. To feel held by her even as she napped away. If Crowley closed her eyes, she could pretend she saw Aziraphale's body repairing itself, bruises healing, the skin on her brow stitching itself together, the soft tissues of her ankle easing, soothing, repairing themselves in that glorious way the human body did. And sometimes didn't – the scar on Aziraphale's side spoke of muscles never fully repaired, of bones broken and scored, of nerves severed. Crowley vowed to learn every spot where Aziraphale didn't have feeling, and decorate it with rose petals come the summer, dapple her pretty body in love.

Oh, she was _gone_. Beyond gone. So in love it didn't make sense, and she didn't much mind. Instead she stretched in the heat of the bath, sighed deeply and relaxed a little more. Touched her belly, flat and hard. Touched her breast. That was flat and hard too, but it was hers, and she was proud of them, of her little nipples and the skin she'd made smooth and soft. She let her fingertips roam, enjoying how the water softened her skin, followed the slim lines of her figure, bony and gangly. Touched her hipbones where they stuck out.

Crowley wrapped her hand around her cock and gave a few strokes thoughtfully, but her heart wasn't in it; too sweet and soft to get horny, she reckoned. Maybe Aziraphale would talk dirty to her later.

She smiled to herself – honestly, all she had to do was ask after some school reminiscence, and it would be wall-to-wall lesbian orgies again, Aziraphale's rosebud mouth saying the most sexual things Crowley had ever imagined.

Crowley let the water hold her a good long time, until tears felt far away, and she rose and drained the tub, rubbed her hair dry in its braid, and then her long limbs. She wrapped the towel around herself, not ready to dress again, and walked the short distance through the stacks to the little bedroom.

Aziraphale was just waking up, blinking her eyes and yawning, and Crowley knelt by her for a kiss.

“Oooh, you smell nice,” Aziraphale sighed, and wiggled over. “Climb in.”

“Towel on or off?” Crowley asked.

“Oh! Off, please?” She smiled, still heavy-lidded from sleep, and held the blankets open, then rolled on her side to wrap arms and legs around Crowleys' body.

“Your ankle!”

“Bugger my ankle,” Aziraphale mumbled. “It'll survive for five minutes. Wanna _hug_ you, my pretty demon girl.”

Crowley smiled and let herself be hugged, snuggling close. Aziraphale's dress was thankfully simpler and softer today, the velvet nice on Crowley's skin, and even the metal clasps didn't hurt when they pressed against her chest, perhaps because there was the firm weight of her breasts behind them.

They snuggled in quiet for a little bit, and kissed, and Aziraphale tickled the back of Crowley's neck the way they both liked.

“Love?” Crowley asked. “Do you mind if I keep some makeup here? I won't take up too much space, but it would be...nice.”

“Well if there's one thing I lack here, it's space,” Aziraphale said dryly. “Crowley, of _course_. And anything else you might need – a razor or such. I'll clear off some space in the bathroom for you.” She kissed her forehead. “If you're feeling itchy without it, I do have some powder and lip colour you can use.”

Crowley shrugged. “In a bit. I'm okay for now.”

Aziraphale gave her a little squeeze. “All right. We'll make some room for you later.” She touched Crowley's chin, tilting her head up for a kiss. They shared a single pillow, limbs softly entwined, and Crowley couldn't imagine giving this up anytime soon.

“Sweetheart? I want to tell you something, and ask you something, and they're not light somethings. Are you all right for that?” she asked.

Crowley tried not to be a little afraid as she nodded. 'This was all a mistake and I can't stand you' was unlikely when she was held so close she could smell Aziraphale's hair and skin, and her angel was smiling at her so gently. “I feel better,” she said. “After the bath. It, um, helped.”

“Good.” Aziraphale kissed her, long and sweet. “I love you. Crowley...everything you said, you're right.” She sighed. “I mean, you were right to say it to me. I...struggle, with believing that I am deserving. Worthy.” She rested a hand on Crowley's chest, just over her heart. “Worthy of you and your love, worthy of care and kindness. You were right to remind me that I _am_. But my love, you have to know, I was also speaking from experience.” She sighed again, and met Crowley's eyes, her own hazel ones soft and sad. “Medicine is _expensive_. Care is _expensive_. Oh, it was fine at the Guild and I never got seriously hurt or sick at Heaven's Court, but I remember...” She bit her lip. “Crowley, I send part of my pay every month to Madame, because she put _everything_ into making sure I'd survive, that I'd heal.. I needed so much care. She had to change my bandages out every day, to keep the wound from being infected. I needed visits from the doctor regularly, I needed medicine, my God, she even found me a little wheelchair for when I was strong enough to get out of bed, but couldn't use crutches. Someone could push me on walks, or I could sit by the window and watch the world and be happy, and she did all this for a _stranger_. I love her, and she loves me, but she got this three-quarters-dead girl who was barely awake for the first few weeks, and she gave me everything.”

Crowley wasn't going to cry, she _wasn't_. She _was_ , however, going to quietly learn where Madame lived, and just as quietly make sure this Madame never wanted for anything, for as long as she lived. Also maybe look into sainthood.

“So, you're right. I'm glad you'd do the same for Wat as you would for me,” Aziraphale explained. “And you're right, that I probably worry too much. I don't understand why everyone is so kind to me, I haven't done anything to earn it. I don't deserve it.”

Crowley made an angry, growly noise.

“I don't always believe I deserve it,” Aziraphale corrected herself. “You saw the truth of me. But love, don't discount my...lived experience. Which happened, is real and true.”

“I'm sorry,” Crowley said softly. “I never meant to do that. Of course you're right; you lived it, and you're right. I'm so sorry.” She hugged Aziraphale gently. “I love you, though. I promise, I will always tell you that you're worth everything.” A smile into her love's neck. “I bet Madame agrees with me.”

Aziraphale giggled. “She does. You'll meet her sometime, I suppose – I visit her regularly.”

“I would like that very much,” Crowley agreed. “I want to meet her, please. I think we'd get on well.”

“I think you would too. She's a firecracker, like you.” Aziraphale smiled. “I call her Madame, but she's really not very much older than us, maybe fifteen years or so.”

“Where does she live?” Crowley asked, lacing her fingers with Aziraphale's, the two of them just apart enough to look at each other.

“Caelis – there was only fighting along the border, and she lives inland, in the mountains.” Aziraphale smiled, remembering. “It was nice to have my own language, as I got better. And there were always people coming and going, though of course I couldn't meet most of them – she was, and is, a sex worker and medium-for-hire. Makes for an interesting life.”

Crowley giggled. “I would guess so.” She brushed a bit of Aziraphale's hair behind her ear, careful to avoid the fresh scar. “Fun people-watching.”

“Oh, you have no _idea_ ,” Aziraphale sighed. “Wonderful people-watching. She'd run up between clients and tell me stories of who wanted what, whose dead uncle was still angry at someone's cousin, all kinds of funny things. And of course when I was a little better I could watch them come and go myself.”

Crowley smiled, trailing her finger along Aziraphale's old scar, just a few inches of it, barely felt through her dress. “I think I love her already.”

“She's going to _adore_ you,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, darling, you'll like this. I was feeling quite low about the whole limp and disfiguring scar thing, once it was clear I was only going to heal so much. And she sat me down and told me that if anyone ever didn't like it, that I wasn't to give them the time of day. That anyone who liked me, or _lusted_ after me, for that matter, had better be ready to handle the whole package. She never let me believe otherwise, not for a moment.”

Oh. _Ohhhh_. Oh, Crowley was going to...going to find out Madame's dearest dreams, and make them come true. Did she want to move about only on a palanquin carried by the handsomest men in the land, all constantly at the ready to please her in a variety of ways? Crowley would make that happen. Did she want a house, an estate, a small religion dedicated to her? _Crowley was on the job_.

“I love her,” she said, dizzy with gratitude. “Aziraphale, I actually love her.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Didn't I say you two would get on? We'll have to visit her, together, in the spring.” She petted Crowley's face. “Now my love, I have a question for you too.”

“Anything,” Crowley said, still floating somewhere above her body. The small religion dedicated to Madame might be happening whether she liked it or not, with Crowley as her prophet.

“What can I do to ease your heart? You said the holidays were hard, my poor love. I didn't know that.”

Oh. Well, there was Crowley back to earth. She sighed, and tunnelled herself under the blankets, face hidden in Aziraphale's chest for a moment, the soft blue velvet nice against her face. The bosom below it was _really_ nice.

“You're doing it,” she finally mumbled. “Loving me. Giving me a safe place. Letting me...be a woman. Calling me by the right name.” She made a frustrated, sad noise. “I hate my parents. They're cruel and they hate me, and they cast me out. But Aziraphale, I _miss_ them.” Shit, her voice broke. Better to hide again in that velvet softness.

“Oh, love.” Aziraphale's arms were soft around her, tender and cradling. “My love, my poor Crowley. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” She rocked Crowley a little, the way a mum would a crying child, and pressed kisses into her hair. “You're the best woman I've ever met. I love you. It's okay. It's okay to miss them.”

Crowley nodded, but didn't cry. She was all cried out, about her parents. And Aziraphale just holding her...helped.

She stayed like that for a long time, but Aziraphale never even moved, didn't let up an inch, until Crowley wiggled her way back to the world.

“It's been nice, to avoid some of my relatives,” she said quietly, and smiled. “I don't _want_ you to get hurt right before Christmas every year, mind...”

Aziraphale giggled. “Next year I'll arrange something that's less painful,” she teased. “Lovey, is there any chance your parents would be here?”

Crowley shook her head. “They don't come here. I don't go there. It's simple.” She made a face. “Which doesn't stop various relations going both places. Um. If you meet someone who talks about Raphael...that's me.”

“It's been _twenty years_!” Aziraphale cried. “They can't learn your fucking name in twenty years?”

Crowley gave her a twisted little smile. “Won't. They won't learn it.”

“Well, fuck them. Anyone calls you anything but Crowley to me, that's the end of the conversation.” Aziraphale shook her head. “Your birth name is lovely, darling. But it's not _you_. Not anymore.”

Crowley shrugged. “They don't care. They see a man in a dress.”

“Then they're stupid. And blind. And cruel.” Aziraphale touched under one eye, and smiled at her. “God, I forget how beautiful your eyes are. You're a lovely _woman_ , Crowley. I'm not just saying that because I love you.” She traced the line of Crowley's cheekbone. “You know who you are, what gender you are. It's...it's impossible to miss, that you're a woman. You just _are,_ exactly as much as I am, or Min is, or any other woman is. And you are _beautiful_. Look at your face, all angles and those _eyes_. You could bring down a kingdom with those eyes of yours. I worship your collarbones, and your body wears dresses so beautifully. I can't wait to see you in something low-cut and light, come summer. I'm going to be a wreck from May 'til September, just looking at you.” A little kiss. “I can't wait to make love to you in nothing at all. Adore your body, worship every inch of you.”

Crowley smiled, and hugged her tight. “Thank you. I can't wait for that too.”

Aziraphale hugged back, and they stayed like that until the sun slid down and evening stole on, the winter evening of late afternoon that called for tea and cuddles by the fire, and ice on Aziraphale's ankle again. She joked about her skill at using crutches – or lack thereof – and Crowley teased her in turn. Aziraphale made her take a go at them, and Crowley was even worse, complaining immediately about how her arms hurt, and they giggled together, playful and fun, and both of them fell asleep smiling, just a few feet apart in Aziraphale's little bedroom.


	16. Aziraphale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the run-up to Christmas, stories and gifts are exchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up for discussion of depression, and one of Crowley's relatives misgendering her (offscreen).

The days in the run-up to Christmas passed slow and as sweet as they could possibly be, considering. Aziraphale's bruises blossomed, but in doing so became less painful. Her ankle remained swollen, but she could get around all right on crutches after more practice; she'd never be _great_ at it, but with any luck she would be able to put weight on her foot soon. The scar on her head hardly troubled her at all, especially with Crowley so gentle and careful to keep her hair pulled back out of the way, no chance of catching on stitches.

And, of course, they revelled in time to be together. Crowley staunchly refused to go back to her bedroom until Aziraphale was back on her feet, so slept the nights away on her little pallet. Sometimes Aziraphale woke, in sudden pain from moving her foot wrong, or just for the waking, and she could look over the edge of her bed and see her beloved demon fast asleep, painted by starlight. If she woke first in the morning, she'd slip down to the floor and snuggle her until Crowley woke as well; if Crowley woke up first she made a cup of medicinal tea and kept Aziraphale's breakfast warm.

Aziraphale had worried a little about Crowley growing bored, or for that matter she herself growing bored, but quickly realised she didn't need to. They were endlessly fascinating to one another, and found they could sit and talk for hours. Occasionally, Crowley even asked something that wasn't obviously trying to get stories of her escapades at school.

Not this night, though.

“What's the largest number of people you've had sex with at one time?” she asked, not coincidentally right after Aziraphale had bathed. Aziraphale was lying on her bed, and Crowley was rubbing salve into the bruises that weren't too tender to be touched – which at this point, happily, was most of them. Her foot was safely propped up on a pillow, waiting to be re-splinted, and she had to admit she didn't feel her sexiest in the moment. Minus the adoring way Crowley was looking at her. That made her feel warm and good and loved.

“Oooh....I think six. No, wait, seven, not counting myself of course.” Aziraphale smiled at the memory. “My twenty-second birthday. It was a beautiful spring day, and the girl I was going with, I've told you about Elsie, she pried me away from studying and got me down to a little grotto where a bunch of our friends were.”

“When's your birthday, angel?” Crowley asked, starting on Aziraphale's hip, careful of the darkest parts of the bruise there.

“May thirtieth. When's yours?”

Crowley gave a little yelp of joy. “May tenth!” They giggled, and Crowley ducked her head to kiss Aziraphale's tummy. “Right, we'll make plans for that later. So Elsie gets you out into the sun...”

Aziraphale giggled. “You're incorrigible. She gets me out into the sun, yes, and then right into the shade, thankfully. Of course, I got stripped down lickety-split, and there was lovely cushions and things to lie on. And get my birthday presents.”

“Tell me _everything_ ,” Crowley demanded, so Aziraphale did. The sweet day, spending it cradled in Elsie's lap and being adored, her fingertips and toes kissed and nibbled, to say nothing of her breasts, and one or two women between her legs at all times, for _hours_. She'd been caressed and cuddled (to say nothing of tasted and licked and sucked) and loved up until she was completely exhausted, just lying there in the midst of a huge cuddle pile under a starry sky. And even then, sneaky Idgie with the long, elegant fingers slipped her hand between Aziraphale's legs and gave her one last orgasm to see out the night, kissing the moans from her mouth.

“I limped for three days after, and it _wasn't_ because of the weather,” she said smugly, and Crowley laughed out loud, flushed from the story. Aziraphale had watched as she'd squirmed a little, adjusting how she sat, and smiled to herself. Soon. Her mouth watered, thinking about Crowley's writhing body underneath hers, the beautiful sight of Crowley coming.

Libido was shelved for a moment in favour of the mildly unpleasant task of re-wrapping her foot. It _was_ looking better, and Crowley was gentle as could be, setting the splints in place and wrapping the joint with fresh linen bandages. And it hurt less and less every day, at least. Quietly, she suspected she had broken something when her foot was caught in the stirrup, but that would heal in time too. She was getting better. Just...slower than she would have liked.

“What's wrong, angel?” Crowley asked, when she settled Aziraphale's foot again.

“Nothing. I'm pouting is all.” Aziraphale smiled up at her. “Come and hold me, please?”

Crowley whooped with pleasure, squishing up against Aziraphale's side, arms around her waist. She pressed a kiss to her cheek, and was generally cute as could be.

Aziraphale smiled, cheered a little by her enthusiastic girl, who loved her even with bruises and crutches and everything. Maybe loved her especially now – she needed it, she sometimes thought.

And then all she thought about was kissing her, of Crowley's hands on her breasts, their bodies pressed together as they kissed deep, a promise that soon, _soon_.

On Christmas Eve they exchanged their small gifts.

“This is ridiculous,” Aziraphale said as she passed her wrapped present over. “You're worth so much more, I'm so sorry. If I'd had more time...”

“Honestly, same,” Crowley admitted, and they laughed at themselves.

“I don't think I could put how you make me feel into a gift anyway,” Aziraphale said softly. They were sat before her fire, and she'd insisted on putting on a particularly pretty dress for Crowley, the one with the hidden rose. Her foot was up and iced again after she'd stumbled and stepped down on it hard, and instantly regretted it. But she had on her prettiest slippers, none of her boots fitting over the splint, and she'd even put on a bit of make-up and her fillet to be pretty for her darling – even with half her face bruised, now faded to yellow and brown.

“I know I couldn't,” Crowley said simply. “I'm not even going to try.” She cupped Aziraphale's face in one hand and leaned over for a tender kiss. “I love you, Maestra Librarian Aziraphale. Going and having a brood in the rain is the best thing I ever did.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Why _were_ you out there, anyway, my silly duck?” She cuddled Crowley close – presents could wait a moment, her demon needed some kissing.

Crowley groaned. “Oh, being stupid.”

“Bet you weren't.”

A grudging smile. “Well. Being low, I guess,” Crowley admitted. She took Aziraphale's hand and laced their fingers together. “It had been a hard week. One of my cousins had visited, I didn't have much to do with him, but when no one was around to hear he called me, um, by my birth name.”

Aziraphale made an angry noise, and hugged her a little tighter.

“Yeah,” Crowley said softly. “That wasn't nice. And I had a fight with Chae, nothing worth talking about, but I felt...lonely. And wrong. Really wrong, the way I used to feel when I was little and _everyone_ called me Raphael and made me wear breeks and not pretty things. Like, um. Like I was the only person who understood me. And I was the only person who could like myself, that I'd just keep losing everyone. Drive 'em away, or whatever. Just for existing.”

“Oh, baby.” Aziraphale's heart was breaking, it really was, that was why her throat was full of jagged feelings. “None of that is true. I love you so much, _because_ of who you are. But so do a lot of people – love you, I mean. Chae does, and your auntie and uncle, and Adam, and Mrs Moonchild even though she doesn't like to show it. And loads of people, too many to name.”

Crowley giggled softly. “Not sure _that_ many. And I know, and I'm grateful, just...sometimes I get like that. It all gets to be...a lot.”

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked softly, meeting Crowley's beautiful eyes.

“Sometimes. Not that time. But yeah. Sometimes.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said. “I know how that feels.” She hugged Crowley tight. “I love you with all of me.”

“Angel...” Crowley's arms were tight, tight around her, they were both twisted funny, but it didn't matter. “I'm sorry. That you know. I love you with all of me, too.”

Aziraphale rubbed her back. “Then we'll get through the bad times. We both know we can.” She pulled back and smiled, and kissed Crowley, the softest brush of lips. “My poor darling. I'm more grateful than ever that I hauled you in out of the rain.” A little kiss to the tip of her nose. “Ready for presents?” Because it _was_ a night of celebration, just for the two of them before they had the big castle-wide party tomorrow night. Tonight they had a warm fire and every lamp and candle lit, and a bottle of excellent wine and gifts and both wearing pretty dresses.

Crowley giggled. “Always!” She nudged the thick, heavy package on Aziraphale's lap, urging her to go first.

Aziraphale opened it carefully, and trilled a little joyful sound. It was a beautiful cream-coloured dupioni silk, shot through with gold threads, _yards_ of it. “Crowley! This isn't a small gift!”

Crowley laughed. “What if I told you I bought it years ago and held onto it, never quite finding the right way to use it? It's so clearly meant for you.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Oh, love. It's beautiful. I'll make a lovely dress out of it, and wear it for you whenever you like. I wonder if there's enough for a corset, too?” she mused, and touched her bosom. “Would you like that? Knowing I was laced up nice and tight, your gift so close to my skin. Maybe I'd wear just that and my stockings, and you're only allowed to put your mouth where my skin is bare...”

Crowley made the horny-noise, and Aziraphale grinned, smug as anything. If Crowley was busy yearning and being loved and desired, she didn't have time to be sad, or remember how she felt when they'd met.

“Oh, I think that would be a lovely game,” she decided, and touched Crowley's lips. Aziraphale dipped her fingertip into her love's mouth, and Crowley obliged, suckling a little, eyes closed and head tilting back, exposing her throat. God, she was so _responsive_. Aziraphale was going to have to be very careful with her at first, making sure she was aware enough to consent, to _enjoy_.

“My good girl,” she praised, when Crowley's eyes were open and uncrossed. “Open your gift. Which actually _is_ small, like we _agreed_.”

Crowley giggled, and opened the little box, and gasped. Aziraphale had carefully written Crowley's favourite poem out in careful, beautiful script, large enough and clear enough that Crowley could read it easily. It wound up taking up eight pages of good paper, and Aziraphale had left them unbound, letting Crowley decide what she wanted to do with them.

“Aziraphale....” She looked up, eyes suspiciously shiny. “This isn't small.”

“It is compared to what you deserve,” Aziraphale said staunchly. “I know you have the poem memorized, and you don't...reading doesn't give you the same joy it gives me, for obvious reasons. But I wanted you to have the option. To be able to read the words yourself, if you ever wanted to.”

“It's _beautiful_ ,” Crowley said in a tight voice, and cleared her throat. “Aziraphale... _thank you_. I can't put it into words. But this means everything. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, love.” Aziraphale kissed her cheek. “I'm glad you like it. I love you. Happy Christmas.”

Crowley smiled back. “Happy Christmas.”

They had one more day to hide out in Aziraphale's rooms. Christmas Day dawned blessedly clear and cold, but dry, and Aziraphale celebrated by rolling out of bed, landing on Crowley with a thump, and kissing her extravagantly. “Happy Christmas!”

Crowley groaned, because she was a cranky old thing before her coffee, and Aziraphale loved her. She rolled over, though, freeing the poor woman to go and collect breakfast while Aziraphale got herself up and over to the little table. It was a good day; her ankle didn't even hurt too much and her bruises were at the ugly-but-mostly-painless stage.

Her good mood held through the day of reading to Crowley and snuggling on the sofa, to say nothing of making plans for the night.

“It really is fun to watch the dances and stuff,” Crowley admitted. “We should stay awhile. And then. Um.”

“And then back to yours,” Aziraphale said softly. She was resting up all day to make sure she had the energy to get down to the Great Hall, and then back up to Crowley's rooms, and the things they would do in them.

Crowley smiled. “And then back to mine.” And to Aziraphale's surprise and delight, pressed her hand to the front of Aziraphale's dress, curling her fingers and rubbing her between her legs, just a few times.

Aziraphale moaned a little and leaned into the touch, and grumbled at her teasing woman. She _ached_ for Crowley, but it would be worth it to wait. Make it something special – and, not to mention, she wouldn't be making little ouchy noises every two minutes, like she had since her riding accident.

Crowley went off to her own rooms to get ready, while Aziraphale picked out the dress she wanted to wear, and retrieved any underthings. She thought a loosely-laced corset might be all right, and it _was_ needed for the blue dress, the one she'd worn to formal events at Heaven's Court. If it had been good enough for Gabriel, it would just about pass muster as being pretty enough for Crowley, she decided.

Aziraphale didn't have much jewellery, but she found a simple necklace and earrings of silver, and of course her Maestra's fillet. There was nothing to be done about her shoes – flat, soft slippers it was, though at least they were pretty white satin. And at least she was almost good on crutches now, though obviously dancing would be off-limits.

Her things found and put out, she settled down in her chair for a lovely cup of tea – non-medicinal, for a change – and a good spell with her book, grateful she could read easily again.

Not for very long, though. Aziraphale looked up at the sound of the door, and gasped when Crowley came in. She was _stunning_. Her hair was loose down her back in shining curls, held in place with a small gold crown, simple but so pretty. Crowley had done her face to perfection, and though she'd wear dark glasses when they went to the feast, her eyes glowed – she had painted on kohl just for Aziraphale. Her lips were a deep, pretty red, her face angled and narrowed, made just a little more feminine.

And her gown! A deep navy blue, fitted tightly to her hips where it flared out into a small train. It was cut to reveal a half-moon of her pale chest, and tiny, delicate silver-thread embroidery glittered along the neckline and sleeves. But really, the art was in its understatement; it fit like a second skin, and Aziraphale could only imagine how tightly-laced Crowley was, her waist slender and pretty, her hips flaring, her bust slim and soft and inviting, the tiniest hint of a bosom.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “ _Crowley_.”

“What, this old thing?” Crowley drawled, and slowly spun for her. She was wearing heeled shoes, would be taller than Aziraphale, elegant, gorgeous.

One of the first thing she'd said to Aziraphale was to never kneel to her. Aziraphale began to think that might not be something she could do. Not kneel out of fear, but of love, adoration, worship.

“You're...my God.” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “Might have to fake sick. I'm not sure I can survive this.”

Crowley laughed and came over, pulling her into a hug. She even _smelled_ amazing, some kind of perfume that reminded Aziraphale of rich people and joyful nights and wonderful, glittering things.

“I'm sorry, all of my things are scattered a bit, I couldn't figure out how to carry them,” she apologized, getting up to show Crowley where it all was.

“Don't be silly, it's easy enough for me to fetch anything,” Crowley assured her, and she followed Aziraphale around, gathering everything they might need.

Dressing first – she helped Aziraphale into a clean shift, and laced her corset for her. It was one Aziraphale's few long ones, supporting her bosom and extending over her hips. Crowley's hands were sure and skilled, and Aziraphale relaxed a little, very carefully balanced mostly on one foot as she felt the laces tighten just enough.

“All right, love?” Crowley asked anxiously. “It's not pressing on anything too much?”

Aziraphale touched her belly, now flattened, the trauma from her old wound hidden in the smooth surface of the corset. “It feels fine, Crowley, thank you.”

She tied the laces off quickly, and then it was time for the dress. Aziraphale had designed this one and had it made up out of a heavy brocade. Intricate stars of palest grey and pink and green were woven against a deep blue ground, geometric rows delineated by silver threads, a dream of a night sky made into fabric. And then cut to fit her closely in the torso, the square neck showing off her decollete, and the sleeves falling to her elbows, trimmed with pretty white lace. The skirt fell just to her feet; long enough to cover the ankle brace, but not so long she might trip, or get tangled in it.

It buttoned up the back with about a thousand little buttons, which Crowley cheerfully grumbled about, but soon it was on her. There was bruising on her shoulder and chest that showed, and on one of her forearms, but not much to be done about that, she guessed. And, of course, she'd be on crutches, but she was the plain old Maestra anyway, so it didn't matter if she wasn't really the star of the court, the way Crowley would be.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed, taking her in when she was all dressed. “You're just...”

Aziraphale smiled and reached for her crutches, settling on them with a grateful sigh, lifting her foot to give it a break. “Think hard about how truthful you want to be,” she teased, balancing and yes, she was fine even with the corset.

“You're beautiful,” Crowley said softly. “You are _so.._. I wish I had words...” She made a frustrated noise. “I wish, just once, you could see yourself how I see you. There aren't words for it. You're pretty, yeah. You're very beautiful. But you're also... _you_.” She blinked hard. “You're my love. Someone as pretty and kind and funny and fun as you loves me.”

“Oh, baby.” Aziraphale hobbled within range and carefully pulled Crowley into a hug. “I think I get it,” she said softly. “I feel the same about you.”

Crowley laughed. “You're amazing. I don't understand you, but I love you.”

Aziraphale smiled and kissed her cheek. “I love you too. Come and help me with my jewellery? And we'll see what we can do to salvage my face.”

Crowley laughed, and got Aziraphale to sit where the light was good. She brought over the necklace, earrings and fillet, and went to raid the bathroom of whatever cosmetics were there, including her own that she'd brought over.

They couldn't cover the bruising exactly, but Crowley toned it down a bit with powder, and painted Aziraphale's lips a deep pink, lined her eyes in kohl and carefully darkened her eyelashes to draw attention to anything that wasn't the scar and the bruises. Carefully arranging her hair covered even more up, and Aziraphale finally gave in with a shrug. “Well, it's not like it's a mystery I got hurt.”

“Exactly.” Crowley kissed her cheek, careful of smearing anything. “Right, love. We've got to sit apart because stupid protocol, but I'll fetch you after dinner, and we can watch the entertainment together in the Hall.”

Aziraphale smiled and squeezed her hand. “I can't wait.”

Crowley helped her with her shoes, and they headed for the main part of the castle together, going slow and resting now and again, as Aziraphale caught her breath. It was easier than she'd feared, at least, and soon enough Crowley was settling her at her spot at one of the lower tables, handing her over to Chae's cheerful care, and hadn't _that_ been a treat, to find she was seated across from him!

“Go, go, you have to go be a princess,” Aziraphale teased. “I'll be fine. You wouldn't know I'd survived whole _years_ of my life without you, the way you're acting.”

Crowley groaned, but let herself be shooed away, looking back once more before joining her family at the high table. Aziraphale treated herself to watching her join the others, a proper princess again, before she turned to Chae with a grin. “Hello dear, it's good to see you again.”

“And you – you look wonderful, Maestra.” Chae was gentlemanly, everyone on their best behaviour at the formal dinner. He was ridiculously kind, making sure that Aziraphale's wine glass never emptied, nor her plate for that matter. Chae proved a charming conversationalist too, the two of them quickly delving into a discussion on the training of hawks, joined by Adam's tutor, who proved to be knowledgeable in some unusual techniques.

“You must come hunting with us, Maestra,” the tutor, a man called Abe, begged.

“Of course! I'm not allowed on a horse until February, but after that – well, after the spring babies are old enough really, by then,” she mused, and Chae made a disappointed sound.

Abe kindly asked why, and she was a bit shocked – was he that polite? But no, of course, he was on her unbruised side, so she turned more fully to show him her face, and admitted she'd had a slight riding accident. He was kind, and sympathetic, and the simple exchange warmed her inside. Her relationship with Crowley was a beautiful flower, exquisite and rare, but to have friends among the other castle denizens – she'd _missed_ having friends!

So the three of them made a jolly little group through dinner, Aziraphale occasionally sneaking peeks at Crowley, who did look to be having a good time. And who caught her looking once, and winked, and Aziraphale went warm down to her toes. Just a few more hours...

Until then, she turned to Chae and asked after Wat, catching up on his training, realising that she had missed some of the life of the castle, after her days of enforced rest. Well, soon enough she could be up and walking, and she could visit Aster, even if riding was out.

The wonderful meal finally ended, and everyone was ushered to the other end of the vast hall, set up for dancing and entertainment. Abe kindly helped her navigate the chairs and the crowds, he and Chae forming a kind of honour guard for her, as she hopped along on her crutches, feeling equally embarrassed and touched.

The feelings only grew when there was a swoop of navy and red, and Crowley joined her guard, scattering people and chairs from her path. Aziraphale began to suspect that everyone was enjoying themselves a little too much, when Abe not _very_ gently nudged a shrieking group of youngsters out of her way.

They cleared her way to the long benches set against the walls, fine and carved and with soft cushions, and Crowley helped her sit while Chae settled her crutches, and Aziraphale felt _distinctly_ like the group pet.

She really, really quite liked that feeling. Chae and Abe promised to check in regularly, but she dispatched them to dance and have fun and do as they liked – it was Christmas, after all, and it was silly to wait on her to this extent.

“You can run off too,” she told Crowley, even as she snuggled into the other woman's side, Crowley's arm around her shoulders. “I don't _actually_ need a keeper at all times.”

“Are you sure?” Crowley teased, and kissed the side of her head. “I'll get us some wine in a bit. But I like sitting here with you.”

“I like you being here with me,” Aziraphale said softly, and turned, and Crowley's face was right there, and it was so easy to lean in, one hand on her leg, and reach for a soft kiss.

They smiled at each other, and Aziraphale rested her head on Crowley's shoulder, enjoying the feel of her, familiar and bony and comfortable. “Tell me who people are, love. You know I like a bit of court gossip.”

Crowley chuckled. “You need to talk to Auntie then. Let's see. Oh, I'm awful at this.” She pointed out a few people that Aziraphale hadn't met, mostly relatives visiting for the season. There was a cousin that was the spit of Crowley to the extent that Aziraphale did a double-take, and Crowley laughed at her.

“Oh yeah. We got called by each others' names for ages,” she said. “Anthony's all right, it's not his fault he's got to inherit a kingdom when all he wants to do is ride fast horses.”

Aziraphale giggled, and was touched when he came over and pulled Crowley up into a hug, bussing her forehead, and elegantly introducing himself to Aziraphale before being called over to assist a great-aunt with something. Crowley went off to fetch them drinks, and Aziraphale had a very contented few minutes of people-watching. One of the musicians was having a bear of a time with his lute, and she made a bet with herself how long it would take for one of his strings to break.

“Darling, who is that old woman who's been glaring daggers at us for five minutes?” Aziraphale asked quietly, after Crowley had returned. They sat hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder, their heads coming together to talk so no one else could hear. And their hands entwined, right now in Crowley's lap, and Aziraphale was tipsy and happy and loved.

Crowley glanced over, and sighed. “Oh, _her_. Oldest of my aunties. Sorry, angel, it's not you. She doesn't approve of me.”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale said. “I can't say I approve of _her_.” She expected a giggle, but Crowley just smiled tightly.

“Love, what is it? Do you want to move? If you carry my goblet, I can get up,” she said, very softly.

Crowley shook her head. “No, no, it's fine. She'll go join the dancing soon.” She half-smiled. “No, she just. Over dinner. Did not call me by my name, let's say. She really doesn't...like me. I mean, not just the gender thing, she genuinely doesn't like me on a personal level.” She was quiet for a moment. “Although she does not like that I'm a woman either, for the record.”

Aziraphale wanted to grab Crowley and kiss her, kiss her _hard_ , show the old bat who was winning in the world and how it was Aziraphale, because she got to have Crowley in her life. That wouldn't solve anything, though. At best it would be...performing their love, for an audience that didn't appreciate it. Aziraphale was happy to kiss Crowley in front of God and everybody, but only if they wanted to kiss, not to prove a point or something.

Instead she brushed a soft kiss on Crowley's ear. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love every part of you.”

“Even the annoying bits?” Crowley asked softly.

“Especially the annoying bits. You wouldn't be any fun without them.” Aziraphale kissed her shoulder. “Watch the lute player,” she said in more normal tones. “He's got about ten more minutes before he's got to re-string.”

“What on earth...” Crowley turned and smiled at her and indeed, nine and a half minutes later, there was an unfortunate _twang_ , and Crowley and Aziraphale had to muffle their giggles.

The next time she went to refill Aziraphale's glass, Crowley came back with a conjurer who had been roaming the crowd. Aziraphale was beyond delighted when he did a few card tricks for them, the close-up magic quick and his patter clever. He was flirtatious with them both in the most harmless of ways, and Aziraphale got her own back when she got to do a little prestidigitation on _him_.

“I didn't know you could do that!” Crowley exclaimed, when he had bowed and taken his leave.

Aziraphale laughed and flexed her fingers. “I used to be better – I'm all out of practice.”

“Where did you learn?” Crowley winked. “Another old lover? Used to play bedroom games?”

“What, you think someone pulled my clitoris out of thin air or something?” Aziraphale murmured, just to watch Crowley choke on her wine. “No dear, not _everything_ in my life goes back to sex.”

Crowley made a disbelieving noise.

Aziraphale giggled. “No, this is more recent. I didn't have friends at Heaven's Court really, but the court jester and I got on, and he taught me a few tricks. I liked practicing them, it gave me something to do.”

Crowley smiled, and they pressed together a little closer, watching the musicians start up again, the dancers doing their thing. Aziraphale truly wouldn't have minded losing Crowley for a dance or three, but she seemed firmly stuck to her side, so she didn't urge too much. Just watched the court, and talked to Crowley, and kissed the soft place behind her ear when she got a chance, Crowley's hair silk-soft on her lips.

They finished their wine, and Aziraphale's heart started to pound a little, a thrill of excitement in her tummy. Soon. It was well into the night, soon they could leave.

“Oh, fuck this,” Crowley said, and turned to her. “Let's go, angel?”

“I thought you'd never offer,” Aziraphale said happily, setting her goblet aside – someone would gather it soon.

Crowley cleared a path for her out of the busy room, a small side door spitting them out into a freezing, silent corridor. They giggled, and Aziraphale moved faster, half-walking to get out of the bitter cold and get to Crowley's bedroom.

“Be careful!” Crowley scolded, but she was laughing and shivering too, so Aziraphale just laughed at her. A short flight of stairs, and they were already in a warmer part of the castle, no longer able to see their breath on the air. Crowley led her through the maze of corridors and stairs, regularly checking if Aziraphale needed to take a break and rest.

“I _need_ to be naked in bed with you, miss,” Aziraphale finally said, and poked Crowley's skirts with her foot. “Scoot, you. I'm fine, I promise. You can massage my arms later.”

Crowley laughed and led her through two more turns and one more flight, and they came up just down the hall from her rooms.

It took two tries to open the door, Crowley's hands were shaking so hard, and they were both laughing at themselves and each other, tumbling into the warm, cozy room.

“Bedroom,” Aziraphale said, making for the vast bed.

“I'll be in in a moment,” Crowley called. “Getting water. And wine. And don't you _dare_ take off a single slipper, I get to unwrap you!”

“If I'd known, I'd've put a ribbon up my cunny,” Aziraphale called over her shoulder, laughing at Crowley's shriek. Undressing herself was a pain anyway with the buttons and everything. Better to get on the bed, catch her breath for real, and wait for Crowley to join her.


	17. Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas night, and the intimacy it brings. And Crowley ponders how wonderful the world is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter gets pretty explicit with the sex and the body parts and the this and the that at times.

Crowley carried a tray of water and wine into the bedroom, setting it on a nearby table, and added her dark glasses to it; no need to wear  _those_ anymore that night. Aziraphale, who had opted to be good and remain fully-clad for probably the first time in her life was lying on Crowley's bed, her white-gold hair spilling out across the dark pillows. 

God, she was so beautiful. Beautiful naked, beautiful in anything at all, but the dress she wore accented her waist, her broad hips and her  _breasts_ , threatening to spill out of the neck of her dress. Crowley was already overcome, just from a fully-dressed woman lying across her bed.

She giggled, and launched herself, careful to land well beside Aziraphale and not jounce the mattress too much, wouldn't do to hurt her pretty girl, and anyway she just had to roll over once and gather Aziraphale into her arms, soft and sweet and her mouth already open and eager as they kissed one another, as their bodies pressed together.

They simply kissed, and laughed, and kissed more, Aziraphale's hands on her chest, cupping her breasts, flat as they were. Hands trailing down to her waist, pulling her closer, even as they still kissed.

“Naked,” Crowley finally managed. “Please.”

Aziraphale giggled and rolled over and oh  _fuck_ the thousand tiny buttons on the back of her dress. Crowley sincerely considered finding a knife and just hacking them all off, but it wouldn't do to damage the pretty fabric – especially since Aziraphale had already been letting out a few gowns, and would need the fabric in the seams.

(Crowley was  _extremely_ in favour of this, for all kinds of reasons, including more soft, squishy angel to hug. And Aziraphale being loved and well-fed, after too many times in her life she had to go without. That was important too.)

“Fuck sake,” she bitched cheerfully, undoing but buttons one by one, her hands not even shaking much, until the gown was open enough that Aziraphale could slip it over her head, wriggling out from under it in a way that was just far too adorable.

“You hush,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, sitting up. “Now your turn, love.”

Crowley turned – her dress laced up the back, and Aziraphale quickly unlaced her. And gathered her long curls up, pushing them over her shoulder to press a soft kiss to her back, the little half-moon of skin her camisole revealed.

Crowley shuddered at the touch, and couldn't bite back a moan when Aziraphale's hands came forward, cupping her bosom, the loose fabric of the dress acting a little as padding.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I'm going to make you so happy tonight, Crowley.”

“Already have,” Crowley ground out. Because it was true. Just having Aziraphale there at dinner, knowing she was close by, had been amazing. Her hand in Crowley's as they watched the dancing, her lips on Crowley's cheek, or her ear, a warm, solid presence right there, constantly. 

“Good. Let me see your feet, now, good love,” Aziraphale praised, gently letting Crowley go, and getting off her shoes and stockings, grinning when she ran her hands up under Crowley's petticoat to undo the ribbon garters she used. After she untied both, she slid her hand up even farther, palm flat between Crowley's legs, urging her to rub off a little bit, roll her hips into Aziraphale's soft, gently-curved hand.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley gasped, falling back onto her elbows, hips already rolling. “Angel, you gotta let me get you naked first.”

Aziraphale smirked, moved her hand, and rolled Crowley's stockings off. “Fine.”

“It's worth it, it's worth it, it's worth it,” Crowley chanted to herself, and managed to find the will to sit up and bodily hold Aziraphale down with one hand on her tummy, the other pulling off her slippers and working her garters. She used rougher, woven-wool straps, so they took a bit more doing to get apart, but eventually Crowley proved victorious.

“I'm buying you silk ribbons,” she said, leaning over for a kiss. “Something fine and good, for my beloved.”

Aziraphale grinned at her. “Go ahead and do what you like, but they always slipped down for me,” she offered, and giggled when Crowley tickled the back of her knee, giving that little wiggle that Crowley lived for.

Gentle, now, gentle rolling off her stockings, they were a fine knitted silk, and of course careful of her injured foot.

“I know we don't want to waste time,” she said softly, hand cupping Aziraphale's foot. “But do you need ice, or tea? I have some stashed here.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale held out her arms, and Crowley went into them so nicely. “No, lovey, I'm fine. I didn't put a jot of weight on my foot all evening.” She cuddled her sweetly, and kissed her. “I'm feeling so much better, I promise.”

“Wine helps with that,” Crowley advised, and they giggled.

“So go get us some glasses, and then I'll take your corset off,” Aziraphale said, moving to kneel prettily until Crowley returned with wine in hand. She took a sip, made a happy noise, and Crowley settled down before her.

Aziraphale's hands were so nice, she didn't even regret the loss of the corset, the tight, comforting feel, the thing that gave her the body she wanted so badly. Crowley had to talk her through how to unclasp in front a bit, but soon she was just in petticoat and camisole, feeling a little bereft.

“What's wrong?” Aziraphale asked softly, touching her cheek. “We can slow down, Crowley, we can stop this instant and snuggle and drink wine and go to bed just like this. Or I can go back to my rooms, if you need some space.”

Crowley shook her head, trying to not well up at this kindness. Aziraphale was....well, she was permanently horny, to be honest, but she was also so dedicated to Crowley's comfort, it was enough to break your heart. “No, I mean. It's not that.” She smiled a little. “It's always hard at first. I really love wearing corsets. Love how it makes me feel, look, all that.”

Aziraphale nodded, and pulled her into a hug. “Do you want to leave it on?”

“Do you want me to leave it on?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale immediately shook her head. “I'd like to see you fully naked,” she requested politely. “I like your body very much.”

Crowley smiled. “I do too. And of course – just takes a few moments to adjust.” She kissed Aziraphale's cheek. “I'm happy to just be in my skin tonight.”

“And always?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I'd also really love to fuck you while you wear a corset. You have a cincher, right? So I can play with your tits at the same time?”

Crowley shivered, the way she always did when Aziraphale's angelic mouth said such things so bluntly. “Uh huh. A couple. You can. Um. You can pick which one you like best and make me wear it.”

Aziraphale gave a happy little trill. “Oh, you know just what to say to me. I think I want to see what it looks like to take you from behind, your pretty waist and your pretty arse in the air. Then you may eat me out,” she said graciously, and Crowley had to bite the inside of her cheek.  _They weren't even naked yet_ . Aziraphale tapped Crowley's nose to bring her at least somewhat back to the present. “Love, may I finish undressing you, please?”

“Uh. Oh, yeah! Yeah, of course.” Crowley laughed at her own awkwardness. “All good to go here, angel.”

“Excellent.” Aziraphale lifted off her camisole and, inevitably, took a moment to cup Crowley's breasts in her hands and squeeze. She had gained a little weight with the winter, and fancied that there was a tiny bit more there to cup.

“Oh, lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, leaning over to suckle at a small nipple, while she ran her hands down Crowley's tummy and untied the drawstring of her petticoat. “Gorgeous.”

And, gentle as a sigh, Crowley was naked, all of her exposed from head to toe. She smiled, and stretched, and showed off for her lover while Aziraphale made a happy little noise, running her fingertips down Crowley's side. “ _Mine_ !” she exclaimed, and Crowley again had to bite the inside of her cheek.

Getting Aziraphale undressed just took a moment – easing the lacing on her corset, slipping it off, and the shift she wore after it. Crowley had seen her naked plenty of times in the last few days, but this was the first time it hadn't been to bathe, or change, or help her do something she couldn't quite manage herself yet.  _This_ was candlelight and Aziraphale spilled across her bed like a pool of moonlight made into a person, this was Crowley leaning over her with a long, slow kiss, hands roaming her beautiful body, squeezing soft thighs, tracing around her nipples with the tip of her tongue until Aziraphale moaned, hands buried in Crowley's hair.

Crowley would always remember most of that night, but three memories in particular remained crystalline, perfect, something she'd never forget. First, when she slipped her fingers between Aziraphale's legs, dipped into the wet folds, and watched Aziraphale throw her head back and moan. Second, when Aziraphale wrapped her hand around Crowley's cock and began to stroke, the most amazing smile on her face, the way she looked utterly lovestruck by Crowley, by making love to her, touching every part of her. And third, when she brought Aziraphale to orgasm, looking up from between her legs just in time to watch her be lost to ecstasy, and knowing that  _she, Crowley_ had done that. It was the first of countless times, for all three things, and they were inscribed in Crowley's brain for the rest of her life, perfectly preserved in a cloud of perfume and candlelight and bodies slipping together for the first of countless times.

They tired each other out as the sun rose, and it was two very sleepy women who did their best to clean themselves up. Aziraphale had made it back to bed first, and when Crowley came to join her, she was holding the duvet up and open, inviting, like a great wing ready to shelter Crowley from anything.

She fell asleep clasped in Aziraphale's arms, head pillowed on her bosom, and slept dreamlessly, perfectly, thoroughly exhausted and loved, feeling glorious from tip to toe.

Crowley woke the next morning feeling the most delicious sort of sore she could imagine. She stretched, and reached out, and oh yes. Oh heaven. Heaven, because her very own angel was just there. Crowley moved her hand a little and discovered she'd found Aziraphale's shoulder. She was lying on her back, and it was just the matter of a few inches to slide her hand down and cup a soft, perfect breast in one hand.

“Mmnnn?”

“Shh,” Crowley murmured, and blinked her eyes open, squinting over one shoulder at a window. “It's...oh, _bugger_ the time. It's sometime in the morning. I think.”

“Mph.” 

Crowley squeezed her hand absently. “I'm going to get up, love,” she whispered. “Just for a moment. You sleep, all right?”

“ _Mmmnnnn_.” Aziraphale made the cutest little noises, and Crowley stifled a giggle as she scarpered to the bathroom, taking care of various bodily necessities, including her facial hair. She ran quick through the bedroom to retrieve coffee and a few muffins, kindly left by one of the servants, and soon crawled back into bed to see what a sexually-exhausted Aziraphale was like the morning after the night before.

Cute as  _fuck_ , predictably. Crowley usually woke after Aziraphale, or around the same time, so it was rare for her to be up and about already, and for her maestra to be a grumbly, mumbly, cuddly lump under the covers. Which was what she was in the moment, wrapping her limbs around Crowley as soon as she was within reach, tucking her face into Crowley's tummy.

“Oh, beautiful,” Crowley murmured, finger-combing out her tangled curls. “Too much wine?”

Aziraphale shook her head. “Always like this,” she mumbled. “S'ry.”

“You absolutely should not be,” Crowley said, quietly delighted that sexually-exhausted Aziraphale would happen again someday. Maybe even _tomorrow_.

Well, within the week. She was a little sexually exhausted herself. “You're precious like this,” she said, still petting. “Take your time, I have coffee and muffins.”

“Muffins?” A single hazel eye appeared, and never mind the kohl was smeared and she looked a little bleary.

Crowley broke off the edge of one of them, something with lots of sugar and cinnamon on top, and fed it to Aziraphale.

“Mmm...”

Crowley giggled, overwhelmed at how precious her angel was. “Mmmhmm. There's plenty, love, it'll be here when you wake up.”

“Wanna be awake. With _you_ ,” Aziraphale grumbled, and stretched, and gave a not-nice groan. 

“Love, what's wrong?” Crowley all but mantled over her. Should they have slept apart? She ought to have made sure Aziraphale had more pillows around her, she was a _terrible_ girlfriend, did she wiggle in her sleep and kick Aziraphale or something? Fuck. Fuck.

“Rain's coming,” Aziraphale mumbled, and groaned, but stretched again and opened both eyes. “Bleah. Coffee?”

Crowley smiled and touched her cheek. “Coffee,” she promised. “D'you need help sitting up, love?”

Aziraphale shook her head, and did indeed haul herself up, sitting beside Crowley now, but quickly snuggled into her side. “It's not as bad as it was last week,” she promised, and made a face. “Bugger, doctor's coming by later, I have to get back to my rooms.”

“Or I can ask him to come here,” Crowley pointed out, reaching for her mug and handing it over. “Stay in bed today, darling – if you want, of course.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I want. At least for most of the day.” She sipped deep, and turned to kiss Crowley a proper good-morning. “Hello, by the way. I love you very much. Sorry, if I'm whiny.”

“You are _unspeakably_ adorable,” Crowley said, accidentally in her outside voice. “Uh.”

Aziraphale grinned. “You're mad. But thank you.” She rested her head on Crowley's shoulder in between sips of coffee, and Crowley wondered if they could both just...stay like this. Forever.

Aziraphale woke up a little bit more, which meant soft, lingering kisses, even as the rain her body had predicted started to fall softly outside of Crowley's windows.

“I love you,” Aziraphale murmured, kissing her way to Crowley's ear. “You're so good to me, darling. I'm sorry I'm hard going sometimes.”

“Are you? News to me.” Crowley gathered Aziraphale close, gentle, letting her find what was most comfortable for her. “Angel, truly, you _aren't_. And if you ever are, you're still worth it.”

Aziraphale smiled at her, shy and sweet, and Crowley kissed her again, kissed her until she was smiling open and happy, and was cuddled in her lap, her bad hip pressed into the warmth of Crowley's body, the crease of her own hips.

“I love you,” she said. “Last night was wonderful, by the way. Did I mention that yet?”

“I think you screamed it a few times,” Crowley said. “But yes. Last night was perfect. You're very good with a cock. I know it was your first time with someone like me.”

“Am I good?” Aziraphale looked _very_ pleased at this. “Wonderful. I mean, a lot of girls gossiped about it, so I picked a few things up, but of course it's _your_ body, and special to you. I'm so glad I could help you feel nice.”

“More than nice.” Crowley kissed her slowly, lazily. “I adore you. I love you so much. Thank you. I know it's silly to say that, but thank you.”

“Well, thank _you_ for my orgasms,” Aziraphale teased, and sighed, and stretched. “Oof, that feels good.”

“How are the newer hurts?” Crowley asked, poised and ready to make the medicinal tea.

“My ankle still feels all swollen and funny,” Aziraphale admitted. “But the bruises don't hurt, and my head's just itchy.”

Crowley smiled and pressed a kiss right next to the little scar on Aziraphale's scalp. “Poor girl. I mean it, stay here today if you want. It's easy enough to send a message to come see you here.”

“Honestly, I would love that,” Aziraphale sighed. “To not have to walk far, but also just something different. I have been staring at my bedroom for _days_!”

Crowley laughed. “I should've got you here earlier, somehow, even just for a few hours, poor doll.”

Aziraphale giggled softly. “Oh, I was fine. I did want to ask, though – I know it's a bit closing the barn door after the horse, but you being with me, openly, that won't cause trouble for you, will it?”

Crowley startled at that, reminded again of the terrible place Aziraphale had been before. Or maybe even etiquette she'd been taught – she seemed to have been trained to a pretty rigorous standard, going by some things she'd said in passing. 

(And not just when it came to sex and physical pleasure,  _hey-oh!_ , a part of her brain helpfully supplied because why  _not_ get a little bit aroused while her sleepy girlfriend who was having a bad body day was snuggled on her lap?)

“No, angel,” she said. “No trouble. I mean, even if it did, I'm not exactly one to follow the rules?”

Aziraphale giggled. “No, you definitely are not.” She lifted one hand to cup Crowley's breast through her dressing gown, just for a little squeeze. “But good. I don't want to cause more hurt for you, love.”

“You won't. I don't think you could,” Crowley said softly, putting her arms a little more closely around Aziraphale. “Here, snuggle up to me, and then I'll go sort things out with the Infirmary.” She tapped Aziraphale's nose. “And bring you a better breakfast. You must be ravenous.”

“Well I am _now_ ,” Aziraphale cheerfully complained, and Crowley giggled, getting in a quick snuggle before helping Aziraphale settle, as comfortable as she could be, and throwing on a dress and a dab of makeup, braiding her hair as she headed to go gather things for her very own pillow princess.

And that was how Aziraphale ate her breakfast in bed, with Crowley between her legs, giving her a casual, lovely little orgasm to start her day.

“Would you like me to return the favour?” Azirapale asked, when a rather disheveled Crowley emerged. She held out a fork-ful of eggs, and Crowley ate them happily.

“No thank you, love, I'm fine.” She snuggled up to Aziraphale instead, and obediently, happily ate everything her girlfriend kindly hand-fed her. “Some of us aren't raring to go at any moment.”

Aziraphale giggled, and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much. I know we've been in each others' pockets for the last week, but let's spend today together? Please?”

“Angel...” Crowley hugged her tightly. “I want nothing more. I _like_ you, you know.”

“I like you too,” Aziraphale said, and fed her a piece of bacon.

After breakfast was the inevitable trip to handle bodily needs. Aziraphale could get by on crutches, although she did not particularly enjoy it, but reemerged with a clean face. Crowley got her back into bed, pillows and bolsters doing what they could, and simply held her hand and waited for the pain-lines around her mouth to ease.

“Love, d'you want me to go get clothes for you?” she asked, stroking Aziraphale's fingers. “I know where everything is now.”

“Oh, would you?” Aziraphale looked down at her shift, smiling a bit. “My blue gown, I think, the wool one with the red embroidery, please. Any old stocking and such that you can find – I don't think I'll be moving around much today.”

“Of course. I'm grabbing you a shawl, too, it's bitter out,” Crowley said, and lifted Aziraphale's hand to kiss her knuckles. “Then we'll get nice and cosy and play card games and I'll tell you stories.”

“And I'll read to you.” Aziraphale's smile grew. “Crowley, you're just...you're a really good friend, you know?”

“Aw....” Crowley didn't blush, she _didn't_. Except her cheeks were rather warm. “Y're easy to be nice to,” she mumbled, and fled for the Library.

It was a cold, rainy day outside, but between big cozy shawls and wool dresses and thick woolly stockings, to say nothing of keeping the fire stoked and the cups of hot tea coming, Crowley thought she might have just about managed to keep all the cold and misery  _outside_ . Aziraphale certainly seemed happy enough, jolly and teasing, proving good at card games and astonishingly terrible at chess, enjoying every meal and snack, and generally being a ray of wickedly funny sunshine, especially when they gossiped about some of the more exhausting members of Crowley's family.

Even the doctor's visit went relatively well, as he promised to take the stitches out of her head in a few more days, was pleased to hear her bruises didn't hurt, and when he examined her ankle and moved it, she only gasped and held Crowley's hand tightly, but didn't have the heartbreaking pain of last time.

“Not healed up yet, but you can start putting weight on it, as much as you're comfortable with,” he said, wrapping her ankle up with soft linen bandages. “I'll leave the splint with you – go back to that if it feels better, but you're well on the way to mending, Maestra. Don't worry if it takes some time. Sprains often linger, much longer than you think they would. And absolutely don't hesitate to call on me, if you're worried, or it begins to feel worse.”

Aziraphale thanked him, while Crowley watched as sharp-eyed as could be, memorizing the pattern of binding, how tight the linen was, how she could do this for Aziraphale after baths and such. The castle doctor bid them both good day, and Crowley went to put the water on for tea. 

“Medicinal or otherwise?” she asked.

“Ugh. Medicinal?” Aziraphale made a face at her foot, propped up on an ottoman, ankle still swollen under the bandages. “I love my body, but some days I don't _like_ it very much.”

Crowley threw her a smile over one shoulder. “I'm sorry, love. I don't...understand exactly. But I do?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I guess you would.” She leaned over and rubbed her calf, and touched the bandage. “I heal slow, I guess.”

“And it's raining cats and dogs out there,” Crowley pointed out, digging in a drawer for a little stash of biscuits she'd started keeping around. “Not helping.”

Aziraphale smiled when she came over with the treats, and took one. Good – if she was still eating sweeties, everything was all right. “Honestly, I think I broke something too – something small, I mean.”

Crowley kissed the top of her head, and squeezed Aziraphale's hand. “It was your foot got caught in the stirrup, right?”

“That's what Chae said,” Aziraphale agreed. “I still don't remember anything.”

Crowley nodded, trying very hard to not think about Aziraphale thrown off a horse, her foot caught, how much worse it could have been. It hadn't been, after all.

It was better to make tea, and bring Aziraphale her cup, and settle next to her chair, head against her thigh. Better to snuggle up to her reality, her lover safe and sound and on the mend, and plan their next adventure. They would have so many adventures together, Crowley reckoned, turning to kiss Aziraphale's leg. In the castle, first, while her ankle got better, then close by, playing in the winter. Then roaming far, camping trips and visits to Madame and other libraries. 

There was so much  _fun_ to be had, and they had barely started to scratch the surface!

** Epilogue **

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, angel, just like that oh _yes_!” Crowley howled, straddling Aziraphale's leg, her hips rolling fast and wild, the orgasm building and spilling over her in glory and a scream that sent a flock of crows into flight.

“That's three for you!” Aziraphale popped up cheerfully, sticky as could be and bathed in sunlight.

“How,” Crowley moaned. “Fuck. God.”

Aziraphale just giggled sweetly. “You promised me six for my birthday!”

Crowley moaned again, her body still shaking. “Can't take anymore. Can't. Oh, fuck.” This because Aziraphale was absentmindedly playing with her own breasts, watching Crowley finish out her orgasm. “Too pretty.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Yes, you are, birthday girl. I love you, Crowley.” They were in a clearing, deep in the forest, and sunlight dappled them both. It highlighted how wet Aziraphale's thighs were, how she shone lightly with sweat, and how Crowley's mouth watered to lick her clean.

“Love you too,” Crowley breathed, and held out her arms. “Angel girl. Mine.”

“Yours,” Aziraphale agreed, going easily, holding Crowley tenderly. “Shhh, now, catch your breath. We have all day, sweetheart.”

Crowley sighed happily, and slipped her fingers between Aziraphale's labia, feeling her soft, wet sex, just a little swollen. It was a long hike back, but they loved walking at night. And that was hours away, yet.

And there was so much to do still, as Aziraphale began to moan, breathy and sweet against her, protesting weakly that it was  _Crowley's_ birthday it was  _her_ turn to be the pillow princess.

“Shut up,” Crowley advised, and kissed her the way she knew Aziraphale liked it best, already feeling the orgasm build in her sweet girl's body. Plenty of time, to do as they liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! I hadn't quite expected to stop so soon, but this seems like the right place to end the story, just as they're ready to leap into the beautiful wider world. 
> 
> The story's over, but this universe absolutely isn't -- I promise I have so many more ideas for them!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> dietraumerei.tumblr.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [you look so pretty, yeah](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787364) by [teatales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatales/pseuds/teatales)




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